Barrack-room ballads and other verses

Prcscttteh to

of tl|«

The Estate of the late
Hugh Hornby Langton

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2008 with funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/barraGkroomballaOOkipluoft

BARHACK-ROOM BALLADS

AND OTHER VERSES .

VV^

■'^ij-

BARRACK-ROOM

BALLADS

AND OTHER VERSES BY

RUDYARD KIPLING

METHUEN AND CO.

18 BURY STREET, W.C.

LONDON

1892

Third Edition

" 1

Cop

573314

Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty.

PREFACE

greater part of the 'Barrack-Room
Ballads/ as well as ' Cleared^ ' Evarra,' ' The
Explanation,' ' The Conundrum,' ^ Tomlinson,'
and the 'English Flag' have appeared in the
'National Observer.' Messrs. Macmillan and Co.
have kindly givai me permission to reproduce
four ballads contributed to their Magazine, and
I am i?idebied to the 'Si. James's Gazette' for
a like courtesy in regard to the ballads of the
' Clampherdown ' and ' Bolivar,' and the ' Im-
perial Rescript.' ' The Rhyme of the Three
Captains' was printed first in the ' Athenceura.'
I fancy that most of the other verses are new.

RUDYARD KIPLING.

P'

TO

WOLCOTT BALESTIER

R. K.

ix

1

I

Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness \

hurled —

Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled — j

Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and '.

made our world. j

i

They are purged of pride iecause they died, they know the '

worth of their hays, ,
They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of the

Elder Days, \

It is their will to serve or be still as fitteth our Father s |

praise. \

i

'Tis theirs to sweep through the ringing deep where Azrael's \

outposts are, ;

Or buffet a path through the Pit's red wrath when God goes j

out to war, |

Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of a red- \

maned star. j

They take their mirth in the joy of the Earth — they dare \

not grieve for her pain — ;

They know of toil and the end of toil, they know God's law \
is plain.

So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who know that '
Sin is vain.

X

And ofttimes cometh our wise Lord God, master of every trade,
'And tells them tales of His daily toil, of Edens newly made;
And they rise to their feet as He passes by, gentlemen un-
afraid.

To these who are cleansed of base Desire, Sorrow and Lust

and Shame —
Gods for they knew the hearts of men, men for they stooped

to Fame,
Borne on the breath that men call Death, my brother's spirit

came.

He scarce had need to doff his pride or slough the dross of

Earth-
E'en as he trod that day to God so walked he from his birth,
In simpleness and gentleness and honour and clean mirth.

So cup to lip in fellowship they gave him welcome high

And made him place at the banquet board — the Strong Men

ranged thereby.
Who had done his work and held his peace and had no fear

to die.

Beyond the loom of the last lone star, through open darkness

hurled.
Further than rebel comet dared or hiving star-swarm swirled,
Sits he with those that praise our God for that they served His

world.

CONTENTS

PAGE

TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER

Beyond the path of the outmost sun through

utter darkness hurled, .... x

Barrack-room Ballads

TO T. A.

I have made for you a song, .... 2

DANNY DEEVER

*^What are the bugles blowin' for?' said

Files-on-Parade, ..... 3

TOMMY

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, 6

^FUZZY-WUZZY'

We 've fought with many men acrost the seas, 10

xiii

xiv CONTENTS

FAGS

SOLDIER, SOLDIER

^ Soldier, soldier come from the wars,' . , 13

SCREW-GUNS

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin'

the mornin' cool, . . . . . 16

CELLS

I 've a head like a concertina : I 've a tongue

like a button-stick, ..... 20

V GUNGA DIN

You may talk o' gin and beer, , . . 23

X. OONTS

Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot

makes 'im to perspire ? . . . . 27

LOOT

If you Ve ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the

keeper's back, . . . , . . 31

'SNARLEYOW'

This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the

corps, 31

THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, . 39"

CONTENTS XV

PAGE

BELTS

There was a row in Silver Street that 's near

to Dublin Quay, 42

THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the

East, 46

VMANDALAY

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' east-
ward to the sea, 50

TROOPIN'

Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea, . . 54

THE WIDOW'S PARTY

' Where have you been this while away,' . 57

FORD O' KABUL RIVER

Kabul town 's by Kabul river, ... 60

V GENTLEMEN-RANKERS

To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort

of the damned, 63

ROUTE MARCHIN'

We 're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny

plains, 66

xvi CONTENTS

PAGE

SHILLIN' A DAY

My name is O'Kelly, I 've heard the Revelly, 70

Other Verses

THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never

the twain shall meet, • • • • 75

THE LAST SUTTEE

Udai Chand lay sick to death, . . . 84

THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCY

Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is

the story told, ...... 90

THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JEST

When spring-time flushes the desert grass, . 97

WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered

on the neck, 103

CONTENTS xvii

PAGR

THE BALLAD OF JBOH DA THONE

This is the ballad of Boh da Thone, . . 112

THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE
THIEF

O woe is me for the merry life^ . . . 125

THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS

. . . At the close of a winter day, . . 128

THE BALLAD OF THE ' CLAIM PHERDOWN '

It was our war-ship 'Clampherd own/ . . 136

THE BALLAD OF THE 'BOLIVAR'

Seven men from all the world back to Docks

again^ ... ... 141

THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai, . . 146

THE EXPLANATION

Love and Death once ceased their strife, . 157
h

xviii CONTEN'JS

PAGE

THE GIFT OF THE SEA

The dead child lay in the shroud, . . 158

EVARRA AND HIS GODS

Read here : This is the story of Evarra — man — , 162

THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS

When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on

Eden's ^reen and gold, .... 166

THE LEGEND OF EVIL

This is the sorrowful story, . . . .170

THE ENGLISH FLAG

Winds of the World, give answer I They are

whimpering to and fro, . . . .174

'CLEARED'

Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit

hurt, 180

m

CONTENTS xix

PAGE

AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT

Now this is the tale of the Council the German

Kaiser decreed, i88

TOMLINSON

Now Tomlinsou gave up the ghost in his house

in Berkeley Square, . . . . .192

L'ENVOI

There's a whisper down the field where the

year has shot her yield, .... 203

I

I

BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

To T. A.

I HAVE made for you a song.

And it may be right or wrong.
But only you can tell me if it 's true ;

I have tried for to explain

Both your pleasure and your pain.
And, Thomas, here 's my best respects to you !

O there '11 surely come a day
When they '11 give you all your pay.

And treat you as a Christian ought to do ;
So, until that day comes round.
Heaven keep you safe and sound.

And, Thomas, here 's my best respects to you !

R. K.

DANNY DEEVER

^What are the bugles blowin' for?' said Files-on-

Parade.
^To turn you out, to turn you out/ the Colour-
Sergeant said.
' What makes you look so white,, so white ? ' said

Files-on-Parade.
' I 'm dreadin' what I 've got to watch,' the Colour-
Sergeant said.

For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can

hear the Dead March play,
The regiment's in 'oUow square — they're

hangin' him to-day ;
They 've taken of his buttons off an' cut his

stripes away,
An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the
momin'.

4 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

* What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard ? ' said

Files-on- Parade.
'It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold/ the Colour-
Sergeant said.
' What makes that front-rank man fall down ? ' says

Files-on-Parade.
' A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun/ the Colour-Sergeant
said.

They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are

marchin' of 'im round,
They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin

on the ground ;
An* 'e '11 swing in 'ai^f a minute for a sneakin'

shootin' hound —
O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the
mornin' !

*^'Is cot was right-' and cot to mine,' said Files-on-
Parade.

''E's sleepin' out an' far to-night,' the Colour-
Sergeant said.

' I *ve drunk 'is beer a score o' times,' said Files-on-
Parade.

''E's drinkin bitter beer alone,' the Colour-Sergeant
said.

DANNY DEEVER 5

They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must

mark 'im to 'is place,
For 'e shot a comrade sleepin' — you must

look 'im in the face ;
Nine 'undred of 'is county an the regiment's

disgrace.
While they 're hangin Danny Deever in the

mornin*.

' What *s that so black agin the sun ? ' said Files-on-

Parade.
^ It 's Danny fightin' 'ard for life,' the Colour-
Sergeant said.
'What's that that whimpers over'ead?' said Files-

on-Parade.
'It's Danny's soul that's passin' now,' the Colour-
Sergeant said.

For they're done with Danny Deever, you
can 'ear the quickstep play,
L The regiment's in column, an' they're

*^ marchin' us away ;

Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an'

they '11 want their beer to- day.
After hangin' Danny Deever in the
mornin'.

TOMMY

I WENT into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer^

The publican 'e up an' sez^ '^We serve no red-coats |

here/ I

The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled j

fit to die, I

I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I ; j

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an'

' Tommy, go away ' ; j

But it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when I

j,'

the band begins to play, |

The band begins to play, my boys, the band |

begins to play, j

O it 's ' Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the j
band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be.
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none
for me ;

4

)MMY

-They sent me to the gallery or round the music-' alls.
But when it comes to fightin'. Lord ! they '11 shove
me in the stalls !

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an"

' Tommy, wait outside ' ;
But it 's ' Special train for Atkins ' when the

trooper 's on the tide.
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the

troopship 's on the tide,
O it's 'Special train for Atkins' when the
trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while

you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an* they 're starva-
tion cheap ;
An hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin'

large a bit

\ Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that,

an' ' Tommy, 'ow 's yer soul ? '
But it's *^Thin red line of 'eroes ' when the
drums begin to roll.

8 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS ]

The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums I

begin to roll, j

O it's 'Thin red line of 'eroes' when tlie j

drums begin to roll. ,

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no black- :;

guards too, 1

But single men in barricks, most remarkable like ■■

you ; :

An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy ;

paints.

Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster j

saints : !

I

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' '

' Tommy, fall be'ind,' \

But it 's ' Please to walk in front, sir,' when J

there 's trouble in the wind, !

There 's trouble in the wind, my boys, there 's i

trouble in the wind, j
O it's 'Please to walk in front, sir,' when

there's trouble in the wind.

:l

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, :

an' all : ]

I

We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. |

TOMMY 9

I

^H to our face

^Hrhe Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's dis-
grace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an'

^ Chuck him out, the brute ! '
But it 's ' Saviour of 'is country ' when the
guns begin to shoot ;
B An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an'

anything you please ;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool — you bet
that Tommy sees !

'FUZZY-WUZZY'

(sOUDAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCe)

We 've fought with many men acrost the seas^

An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not :
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese ;

But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im :

'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Sua^m,

An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. i

So 'ere 's to you. Fuzzy- Wuzzy, at your *ome *

in the Soudan ; j

You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first- j

class fightin' man ;
We gives you your certificate, an' if you want

it signed
We '11 come an* 'ave a romp with you when-
ever you 're inclined. ■

10

'FUZZy-WUZZY 11

We took our chanst among the Kyber 'ills^

The Boers knocked us silly at a mile.
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills^

An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style :
But all we ever got from such as they

Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller ;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,

But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oiler.
Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the

missis and the kid ;
Our orders was to break you, an* of course

we went an' did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't

'ardly fair ;
But for all the odds agin' you. Fuzzy- Wuz,
you broke the square.

'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,

'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards.
So we must certify the skill 'e 's shown

In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords ;
When 'e 's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush

With 'is coffin-' eaded shield an' shovel-spear.
An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush

Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.

12 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

So 'ere 's to you, Fuzzy- Wuzzy, an' your

friends which are no more,
If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would

'elp you to deplore ;
But give an' take 's the gospel, an' we '11 call

the bargain fair.
For if you 'ave lost more than us, you

crumpled up the square /

^E rushes at the smoke when we let drive.

An', before we know, 'e 's 'ackin' at our 'ead ;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive.

An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb !

'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
*E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn
For a Regiment o' British Infantree !

So 'ere 's to you. Fuzzy- Wuzzy, at your 'orne

in the Soudan ;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-
class fightin' man ;
An' 'ere's to you. Fuzzy- Wuzzy, with your

'ayrick 'ead of 'air —
You big black boundin' beggar — for you broke
a British square !

i SOLDIER, SOLDIER

,)

A

' Soldier^ soldier come from the wars,

' Why don't you march with my true love ? '

'We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give

the slip,
' An' you 'd best go look for a new love.'

New love ! True love !

Best go look for a new love.

The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better

dry your eyes.
An you'd best go look for a new love.

8* Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
' What did you see o' my true love ? '
' I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green,
' An' you 'd best go look for a new love.'

14 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

' Soldier, soldier come from the wars,

' Did ye see no more o' my true love ? '

' I seed 'im runnin by when the shots begun to fly —

' But you 'd best go look for a new love/

' Soldier, soldier come from the wars,

' Did aught take 'arm to my true love ? '

'I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so

white —
' An' you 'd best go look for a new love/

' Soldier, soldier come from the wars,

' I '11 up an' tend to my true love ! '

^'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead^

'An' you'd best go look for a new love/

' Soldier, soldier come from the wars,

' I '11 down an' die with my true love '. '

'The pit we dug '11 'ide 'im an' the twenty men

beside 'im —
' An' you 'd best go look for a new love/

' Soldier, soldier come from the wars,

' Do you bring no sign from my true love ? '

SOLDIER, SOLDIER

15

I bring a lock of 'air that 'e aUus used to wear.
An' you'd best go look for a new love.'

Soldier, soldier come from the wars,

O then I know it 's true I 've lost my true love ! *

An' I tell you truth again — when you 've lost the

feel o' pain
You 'd best take me for your true love/

True love ! New love !

Best take 'im for a new love.

The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better

dry your eyes,
An' you 'd best take 'im for your true love.

SCREW-GUNS

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin the

mornin' cool,
I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old

brown mule.
With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar

forgets
It's only the pick of the Army that handles the
dear little pets — 'Tss ! 'Tss !

For you all love the screw-guns — the screw-
guns they all love you !
So when we call round with a few guns, o'
course you will know what to do — hoo !
hoo !
Jest send in your Chief an surrender — itj

worse if you fights or you nms :
You can go where you please, you can skid
up the trees, but you don't get away
from the guns !

16

SCREW-GUNS

ley sends us along where the roads are, but mostly
we goes where they ain't :
We 'd climb up the side of a sign-board an trust to

the stick o' the paint :
We 've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we 've give the

Afreedeeman fits.
For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, we guns
that are built in two bits — 'Tss ! 'Tss !
For you all love the screw-guns . . .

If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches

'im 'ow to behave ;
If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles

'im into 'is grave.
You 've got to stand up to our business an' spring

without snatchin' or fuss.
D 'you say that you sweat with the field-guns ? By

God, you must lather with us — 'Tss ! 'Tss !
For you all love the screw-guns . . .

The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-

moanin' below.
We 're clear o' the pine an the oak-scrub, we 're out

on the rocks an' the snow,

B

18 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries

away to the plains
The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules — thejinglety-

jink o' the chains — Tss ! 'Tss !

For you all love the screw-guns . . .

There 's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin', an' a

wheel on the edge o' the Pit,
An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as

a beggar can spit :
With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, an'

the sun off the snow in your face.
An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes to hold the

old gun in 'er place — 'Tss ! 'Tss !
Fcr you all love the screw-guns . . .

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the
momin' cool,

I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old
brown mule.

The monkey can say what our road was — the wild-
goat 'e knows where we passed.

Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's ! Out drag-
ropes ! With shrapnel ! Holdfast — 'Tss I 'Tss I

SCREW-GUNS

For you all love the screw-guns — the screw-
guns they all love you !

So when we take tea with a few guns, o'
course you will know what to do — hoo !
hoo !

Jest send in your Chief an' suiTender — it 's
worse if you fights or you runs :

You may hide in the caves, they '11 be only
your graves, but you can't get away from
the guns !

CELLS

I 'vE a head like a concertira : I 've a tongue like a

button-stick :
I 've a mouth like an old potato^ and I 'm more than

a little sickj
But I 've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard : I 've

made the cinders fly.
And I 'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink

and blacking the Corporal's eye.

With a second-hand overcoat under my head.
And a beautiful view of the yard,

O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
For ' drunk and resisting the Guard ! '
Mad drunk and resisting the Guard —
'Strewth, but I socked it them hard !

So it 's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
For 'drunk and resisting the Guard.'

20

CELLS 21

I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen

beer.
But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that

that brought me here.
'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed

my nose in the dirt ;
But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock and the

best of the Corp'ral's shirt.

I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the

public road.
And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt

and my tunic goed ;
They '11 stop my pay, they '11 cut away the stripes I

used to wear.
But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I

think he '11 keep it there !

k

My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in
the barrack-yard,

i ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room — it 's that that
cuts so hard.
!

22 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

I '11 take my oath before them both that I will sure j

abstain.
But as soon as I 'm in with a mate and gin, I know

I '11 do it again !

With a second-hand overcoat under my head.
And a beautiful view of the yard.

Yes, it 's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
¥or ' drunk and resisting the Guard ! '
Mad drunk and resisting the Guard —
'Strewth, but I socked it them hard !

So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
For ^ drunk and resisting the Guard.'

GUNGA DIN

You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere.
An' you 're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it ;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water^
An' you '11 lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that 's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime.
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was ' Din ! Din ! Din !

' You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din !
' Hi ! slippery hitherao !
' Water, get it ! Panee lao ! ^

' You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.'

The uniform 'e wore
Was nothin' much before,

1 Bring water swiftly.

23

24 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

An rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind.

For a piece o* twisty rag

An' a goatskin water-bag

Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.

When the sweatin* troop-train lay

In a sidin' through the day,

Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows

crawl.
We shouted ' Harry By ! ' ^
Till our throats were bricky-dry.
Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
It was ' Din ! Din ! Din !
^ You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been }
'You put some juldee^ in it
' Or I '11 marrow ^ you this minute
' If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din ! *

*E would dot an' carry one

Till the longest day was done ;

An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.

If we charged or broke or cut.

You could bet your bloomin' nut,

'E 'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.

1 Mr. Atkins's equivalent for ' O brother.'

2 Be quick. * Hit you.

With 'is mussick^ on 'is back,

'E would skip with our attack,

An' watch us till the bugles made ' Retire/

An' for all 'is dirty 'ide

'E was white, clear white, inside

When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire !
It was ^Din! Din! Din!'
With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
When the cartridges ran out.
You could hear the front-files shout,
* Hi ! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din ! *

I sha'n't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst.
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
'E lifted up my 'ead.
An' he plugged me where I bled.
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green :
It was crawlin' and it stunk.
But of all the drinks I 've drunk,
I 'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
1 Water-skin,

26 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

It was ' Din ! Din ! Din !

' 'Ere 's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
^ 'E's chawin up the ground,
^ An' 'e 's kickin all around :

' For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din ! '

'E carried me away

To where a dooli lay.

An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.

'E put me safe inside.

An' just before 'e died,

' I 'ope you liked your drink,' sez Gunga Din.

So I '11 meet 'im later on

At the place where 'e is gone —

Where it's always double drill and no canteen ;

'E '11 be squattin' on the coals

Givin' drink to poor damned souls.

An' I '11 get a swig in hell from Gunga Din !
Yes, Din ! Din ! Din !
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din I

Though I 've belted you and flayed you,"
By the livin' Gawd that made you.
You 're a better man than I am, Gunga Din !

i.

OONTS

(northern INDIA TRANSPORT TRAIN)

''oT makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes
'im to perspire ?
It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin down to fire ;
But it 's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road
For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load.
O the oont,^ O the oont, O the commissariat
oont !
With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket
full o' snakes ;
We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to
'ear 'im grunt.
An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed
girth-rope breaks.

Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night

is drorin' in.
An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin ?

^ Camel: — oo is pronounced like n in 'bull,' but by Mr.
Atkins to rhyme with 'front.'

27

28 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from

the 'ills.
It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin'
frills !

O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary
oont !

A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we 've got j

the night alarm ! !

We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads \

'im off in front, \

An' when we 've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e

chaws our bloomin' arm.

The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock 's but a

fool.
The elephant 's a gentleman, the battery-mule 's a

mule ; j

But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an'

done, I

■i

'E's a devil an' a ostrich an a orphan-child in one. \
O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken

oont ! j

The lumpy-' umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' J
where 'e lies.

OONTS

'E's blocked the whole division from the
rear-guard to the front.
An when we get him up again — the
beggar goes an' dies !

'E'll gall an chafe an lame an' fight — 'e smells

most awful vile ;
'E '11 lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile ;
'E 's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the

'ole night through.
An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself
in two.

O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin',
droppin' oont !
When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is
meltin' eye is dim.
The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes
is out in front —
It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites
an' crows for 'im.

So when the cruel march is done, an' when the

roads is blind.
An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the

shots be'ind.

30 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

Ho ! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is |

past : I

'E thinks on us that used 'im sOj and gets revenge

at last.

O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin',

bloatin' oont !

The late lamented camel in the water-cut ,j

'e lies ; J

We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a

mile in front.

But 'e gets into the drinkin' -casks,, and

then o' course we dies.

LOOT

Ve ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the
keeper's back_,
If you 've ever snigged the washin' from the line,
you 've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin'

'aversack.
You will understand this little song o mine,
iut the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we
are debarred,
For the same with English morals does not suit.

{Comet : Toot ! toot !)
'Yj they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin'

clobber
With the—
(Chorus) Loo ! loo ! Lulu ! lulu ! Loo ! loo ! Loot !
loot! loot!

Ow the loot !
Bloomin' loot !
That 's the thing to make the boys git up
an' shoot!

81

32 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

It 's the same with dogs an' men,
If you 'd make 'em come agahi
Clap 'em forward with a Loo ! loo ! Lulu !
Loot !
{ff) Whoopee ! Tear 'im, puppy ! Loo ! loo ! Lulu !
Loot! loot! loot!

If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's ]
thrustin' for your life, I

You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell ;
An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't {
feel 'is knife I

That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well. i

Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade
the beggars under
Why lootin' should be entered as a crime ; i

So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' j
clear
'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime.
(Chorus) With the loot, . . .

Now remember when you 're 'acking round a gilded
Burma god
That 'is eyes is very often precious stones ;

LOOT 33

if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin -
rod
E 's like to show you everything 'e owns,
hen 'e won t prodooce no more, pour some water

on the floor
Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot
(Comet: Toot! toot !)—
When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick
^K down the chink,

^H An' you 're sure to touch the —

^{Chorus) Loo ! loo ! Lulu ! Loot ! loot ! loot !

IOw the loot ! . . .
hen from 'ouse to 'ouse you 're 'unting, you must
always work in pairs —
It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find —
For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty

I stairs.
An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be 'ind.
hen you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems
beyond a doubt
As if there weren't enough to dust a flute
(Comet : Toot ! toot !)—

84

BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

Before you sling your 'ook,atthe 'ousetops take alook.
For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot.
{Chorus) Ow the loot ! . . .

You can mostly square a Sergint an a Quartermaster
too_,
If you only take the proper way to go ;
/ could never keep my pickin's, but I Ve learned
you all I knew —
An' don't you never say I told you so.
An' now I '11 bid good-bye, for I 'm gettin' rather dry.
An' I see another tunin' up to toot
(Comet: Toot! toot !)—
So 'ere *s good-luck to those that wears the Widow's
clo'es.
An* the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot !
(Chorus) Yes, the loot,
Bloomin' loot !
In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot !
It 's the same with dogs an' men.
If you 'd make 'em come again
(^/^) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo ! loo ! Lulu !
Loot! loot! loot!
Heeya ! Sick 'im, p'^'ppy ! Loo ! loo .' LuluT
Loot! loot! loot!

^^^!Hi

'SNARLEYOW

This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps
Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in

»war;
* what the bloomin battle was I don't remember
now,
But Two 's ofF-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarle-

Iyow.
Down in the Infantry, nobody cares ;
Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears ;
But down in the lead with the wheel at the
flog
Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped
dog!

They was movin into action^ they was needed very
To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps,

36 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin

down the brow,
When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock j

to Snarleyow.

They cut 'im loose an* left 'im — 'e was almost tore

in two —
But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse

should do ; \

'E went an fouled the limber, an the Driver's ■

Brother squeals : I

' Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow — 'is head 's between j

'is 'eels ! ' )

The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was
goin' round.

An' there ain't no 'Stop, conductor!' when a
batt'ry's changin' ground;

Sez 'e : 'I broke the beggar in, an' veiy sad I feels,

'But I couldn't pull up, not for you — your 'ead be-
tween your 'eels ! *

'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin

shell
A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell

.in'

4

'SNARLEYOW 37

Ln* when the smoke 'ad cleared away^ before the
limber wheels,
There lay the Driver s Brother with 'is 'ead between
^B 'is 'eels.

Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very
^Ki plain,

' For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out
o' pain.'
ley saw 'is wounds was mortial, an they judged
that it was best,
So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is
Hi back an' chest.

t

The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin'
grunt,

'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to
' Action Front ! '

if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Mon-
day head
ras juicier for the niggers when the case begun
to spread.

moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen :
*avn'tgot no familieswhen servin' of the Queen —

'

38 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

You *avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or

sons —

If you want to win your battles take an' work your
bloomin' guns !

Down in the Infantry, nobody cares ;
Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears ;
But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog
Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped
dog!

-•. i

THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR

VE you ■ card o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead ?
She 'as ships on the foam — she 'as millions at 'ome,

I An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red ! )
lere 's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses.
There 's 'er mark on the medical stores —
i' 'er troopers you '11 find with a fair wind be'ind
That takes us to various wars.

(Poor beggars ! — barbarious wars !)

Then 'ere 's to the Widow at Windsor,
An' 'ere 's to the stores an' the guns.
The men an' the 'orses what makes up the
forces
O' Missis Victorier's sons.
(Poor beggars ! Victorier's sons !)

39

40 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,

For 'alf o' Creation she owns :
We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an'
the flame.
An* we 've salted it down with our bones.
(Poor beggars ! — it 's blue with our bones !)
Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow,
Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop.
For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors
frown
When the Widow at Windsor says ' Stop ' !
(Poor beggars ! — we 're sent to say ' Stop ' !)
Then 'ere 's to the Lodge o' the Widow,

From the Pole to the Tropics it runs —
To the Lodge that we tile with the rank
an' the file.
An' open in form with the guns.
(Poor beggars ! — it 's always they guns !)

We *ave 'card o' the Widow at Windsor,

It 's safest to let 'er alone :
For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land

Wherever the bugles are blown.

(Poor beggars ! — an' don't we get blown !)

THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR

41

lC 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin,
An' flop round the earth till you're dead ;
it you won't get away from the tune that they play
To the bloomin old rag over'ead.
(Poor beggars ! — it's 'ot over'ead !)

Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow,

Wherever, 'owever they roam.
'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require

A speedy return to their 'ome.
(Poor beggars ! — they '11 never see 'ome !)

BELTS

There was a row in Silver Street that's near to

Dublin Quay,

Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree ;

It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark : I

The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst |

the Park. \

For it was : — ' Belts, belts, belts, an' that 's '

one for you ! ' I

An' it was ' Belts, belts, belts, an' that 's done \

for you ! '
O buckle an' tongue
Was the song that we sung
From Harrison's down to the Park !

nlP

There was a row in Silver Street — the regimeni

was out.
They called us 'Delhi Rebels,' an' we answered I

' Threes about ! '

42

BELTS 43

ft drew them like a hornet's nest — we met them
good an' large^
The English at the double an* the Irish at the

I charge.
Then it was : — ' Belts . . .

1

There was a row in Silver Street — an' I was in it
too;
e passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went
whirraru !
I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the

storm
A Freeman s Journal Supplemint was all my uniform.
O it was : — ' Belts . . .

There was a row in Silver Street — they sent the

Polls there.
The English were too drunk to know, the Irish

didn't care;
But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous

rose.
Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was

tatthered clo'es.

For it was : — ' Belts . . .

fi

44 BARIIACK-ROOM BALLADS

There was a row in Silver Street — it might

raged till now.
But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' noboc

knew how ;
'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we sa"i

the red blood run :
An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun.
While it was :—' Belts . . .

There was a row in Silver Street — but that put down

the shine,
Wid each man whisperin' to his next : ' 'Twas never

work o' mine ! '
We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street

we bore him.
The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys

were sorry for him.

When it was : — ' Belts . . .

There was a row in Silver Street — it isn't over

yet.
For half of us are under guard wid punishments to

get;

BELTS

45

'is all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie :
lere was a row in Silver Street — begod, I wonder
why !

But it was: — ^ Belts, belts, belts, an' that's

one for you ! '
An' it was ' Belts, belts, belts, an' that 's done

for you ! '
O buckle an' tongue
Was the song that we sung
From Harrison's down to the Park !

THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an 'e drinks like a beast.
An 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e 's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Sei*ve, serve, serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier of the Queen !

Now all you recruities what 's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay.
An' I '11 sing you a soldier as far as I may :
A soldier what 's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .

First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts
For they sell you Fixed Bay' nets that rots out yoi

guts-
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts—
An' it 's bad for the young British Soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .

40

^

THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER 47

When the cholera comes — as it will past a doubt —
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
Jjpr the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,

^H An' it crumples the young British soldier.

^B" Crum-j crum-, crumples the soldier . . .

But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead :
You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said :
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e '11 knock you down

Pdead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

If you 're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor

blind ;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find

That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old —
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I 'm told.
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold.
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
K 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .

48 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loth
To shoot when you catch 'em — you '11 swing, on my

oath!—

Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er : that's Hell for
them both.

An' you 're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .

When first under fire an' you 're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .

When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch ;
She 's human as you are — you treat her as sich,

An' she '11 fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .

When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine.
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line.
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine.
For noise never startles the soldier.

Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .

i

THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER 49

[f your officer's dead and the sergeants look white.
Remember it 's ruin to run from a fight :
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.

Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's

plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,

PGo, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier of the Queen!

M ANDALAY

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to

the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she ^

thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple- ,

bells they say :

Come you back, you British soldier ; come you back j

to Mandalay ! ' f

Come you back to Mandalay, V

Where the old Flotilla lay : |

Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from |

Rangoon to Mandalay ?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin -fishes play.
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer
China 'crost the Bay ! j

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat — jes' the same as
Theebaw's Queen,

60

MANDALAY 61

An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin white

cheroot.
An a-wastin Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's

I foot :
Bloomin idol made o' mud —
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd—
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed
'er where she stud !
On the road to Mandalay . . .
en the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun
was droppin' slow.
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing 'Kulla-

lo-lo!'
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin

my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin'
teak.

Elephints a-pilin' teak

In the sludgy, squdgy creek,

Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was

I'arf afraid to speak !
On the road to Mandalay . . .

62 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an fur *

away.
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to

Mandalay ;
An' I 'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year

soldier tells :
' If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never
'eed naught else.'

No ! you won't 'eed nothin' else

But them spicy garlic smells.

An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the

tinkly temple-bells ;
On the road to Mandalay . . .

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-

stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in

my bones ;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to

the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they

understand ?

Beefy face an' grubby 'and —
Law ! wot do they understand ?

t

MANDALAY 53

I've a neater^ sweeter maiden in a cleaner^

greener land !
On the road to Mandalay . . .

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is

like the worst.
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a

man can raise a thirst ;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it 's there that

I would be —
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the
sea;

On the road to Mandalay,

Where the old Flotilla lay.

With our sick beneath the awnings when we

went to Mandalay !
O the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin' -fishes play.
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer
China 'crost the Bay !

TROOPIN'

(our army in the east)

Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea :

'Ere 's September come again — the six-year men are

free.
O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come

away
To where the ship 's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome
to-day.

We 're goin' 'ome, we 're goin* 'ome,

Our ship is at the shore.
An' you must pack your 'aversack,

For we won't come back no more.
Ho, don't you grieve for me.

My lovely Mary- Ann,
For I '11 marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit
As a time-expired man.

J

TROOPIN' 55

le Malabar 's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail,
the time-expired 's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail.
[o ! the weaiy waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay.
But the time-expired 's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome
^L to-day.

They '11 turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an*
wet an' rain.

All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not com-
plain ;

They'll kill us of pneumonia — for that's their little
way —

But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin'

li 'ome to-day !

T

Troopin', troopin', winter's round again !

See the new draf 's pourin' in for the old campaign ;

Ho, you poor recruities, but you 've got to earn your

pay—
What 's the last from Lunnon, lads ? We 're goin'

there to-day.

Troopin',, troopin', give another cheer —

'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer.

5G BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

The Colonel an the regiment an' all who 've got to

stay.
Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle — Whoop ! we 're
goin' 'ome to-day.

We 're goin' 'ome^ we 're goin' 'ome.

Our ship is at the shore.
An' you must pack your 'aversack,

For we won't come back no more.
Ho, don't you grieve for me.

My lovely Mary- Ann,
For I '11 marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit
As a time-expired man.

THE WIDOW'S PARTY

' Where have you been this while away,

* Johnnie, Johnnie ? '
Out with the rest on a picnic lay,

Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha 1
They called us out of the barrack-yard
To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard,
And you can't refuse when you get the card.

And the Widow gives the party.
(Bugle : Ta — rara — ra-ra-rara !)

' What did you get to eat and drink,

' Johnnie, Johnnie ? '
Standing water as thick as ink,

Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha !
A bit o' beef that were three year stored,
A bit o' mutton as tough as a board.
And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword.

When the Widow give the party.

57

58 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

' What did you do for knives and forks,

' Johnnie, Johnnie ? '
We carries 'em with us wherever we walks,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha !
And some was sHced and some was halved.
And some was crimped and some was carved.
And some was gutted and some was starved.

When the Widow give the party.

' What ha' you done with half your mess,

' Johnnie, Johnnie ? '
They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less

Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha !
They ate their whack and they drank their fill.
And I think the rations has made them ill.
For half my comp'ny 's lying still

Where the Widow give the party.

' How did you get away — away,

' Johnnie, Johnnie ? '

On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha !

THE WIDOW'S PARTY 69

I corned away like a bleedin toff.
For I got four niggers to carry me off,
As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough^

When the Widow give the party.

' What was the end of all the show^,

' Johnnie, Johnnie ? '
Ask my Colonel, for I don't know,

Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha !
We broke a King and we built a road —
A court-house stands v/here the reg'ment goed.
And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed

When the Widow give the party.
{Bugle : Ta — rara — ra-ra-rara !)

FORD O' KABUL RIVER

Kabul town's by Kabul river —

Blow the bugle, draw the sword —
There I lef my mate for ever.
Wet an' drippin' by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river.

Ford o' Kabul river in the dark !
There's the river up and brimmin, an'
there 's 'arf a squadron sv/immin'
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town 's a blasted place —

Blow the bugle, draw the sword —
'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face
Wet an' drippin' by the ford !
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,

Ford o' Kabul river in the dark !
Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they
will surely guide you
'Cross the ford of Kabul river in the dark.

FORD O' KABUL RIVER 61

Kabul town is sun and dust —

Blow the bugle, draw the sword —
I 'd ha' sooner drownded fust
'Stead of 'im beside the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river.

Ford o' Kabul river in the dark !
You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can
'ear the men a-splashin',
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town was ours to take —

Blow the bugle, draw the sword —
I 'd ha' left it for 'is sake —
'Im that left me by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,

Ford o' Kabul river in the dark !
It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you
never comin' nigh there,
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark ?

Kabul town '11 go to hell —

Blow the bugle, draw the sword —
'Fore I see him 'live an' well —

'Im the best beside the ford.

62 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

Ford J ford, ford o' Kabul river.
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark !

Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their
boots *11 pull 'em under,
By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Turn your 'orse from Kabul town —

Blow the bugle, draw the sword —
'Im an' 'arf my troop is down,
Down an' drownded by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river.

Ford o' Kabul river in the dark !
There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't
no use o' callin'
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

GENTLEMEN-RANKERS

To the legion of the lost ones^ to the cohort of
^K the damned

^■To my brethren in their sorrow overseas.
Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred,machinely
crammed.
And a trooper of the Empress, if you please.
Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six
horses.
And faith he went the pace and went it blind,
And the world was more than kin while he held the
ready tin.
But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind.
We 're poor little lambs who 've lost our way.

Baa ! Baa ! Baa !
We 're little black sheep who 've gone astray.

Baa — aa — aa !
Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree.
Damned from here to Eternity,
God ha' mercy on such as we.
Baa! Yah! Bah!

64 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to

empty kitchen slops,

And it 's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell.

To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental

hops

And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well.

Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be ^ Rider ' to your

troop.

And branded with a blasted worsted spur.

When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy

being cleanly

Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you 'Sir.'

I
If the home we never write to, and the oaths we j

never keep, !

And all we know most distant and most dear, ^

Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our i
sleep.
Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer }
When the drunken comrade mutters and the great
guard-lantern gutters
And the horror of our fall is written plain.
Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-
washed ceiling.
Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain ?

GENTLEMEN-RANKERS 65

^We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost
jHr to Love and Truth,

We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung.
And the measure of our torment is the measure of

tour youth.
God help us, for we knew the worst too young !
ir shame is clean repentance for the crime that
brought the sentence.
Our pride it is to know no spur of pride.
And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf
enfolds us
And we die, and none can tell Them where we
died.
We 're poor little lambs who 've lost our way,

Baa! Baa! Baa!
We 're little black sheep who 've gone astray.

Baa — aa — aa !
Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree.
Damned from here to Eternity,
God ha' mercy on such as we.
Baa ! Yah J Bah 1

%

ROUTE MARCHIN'

We're marchin on relief over Injia's sunny plains,
A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the

Rains ; |

Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'card the

bugle blowed.

There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk '

Road ; J

With its best foot first j

And the road a-sliding past.

An' every bloomin' campin -ground exactly •

like the last ; j

While the Big Drum says.

With 'is ' rowdy-dowdy-dow y —

*Kiko kissyivarsti don't you hamsher argyjowV ^

4

Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire wl

you see.
There's the peacock round the corner an' the i

monkey up the tree, i

1 Why don't you get on ? \

66

1
^?^

ROUTE MARCHIN' 67

there 's that rummy silver grass a-wavin* in the
wind.
An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling

Ibe'ind.
While it's best foot first, . . .

At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down

must come.
Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em

up at 'ome.
But it 's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts.
While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in

the carts.

An' it's best foot first, . . .

Oh, then it 's open order, an' we lights our pipes an'

sings,
An' we talks about our rations an a lot of other things.
An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders

what they 're at.
An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the

An' it's best foot first, . . .

1 Language. Thomas's first and firmest conviction is that he is
a profound Orientalist and a fluent speaker of Hindustani. As
a matter of fact, he depends largely on the sign-language.

68 BARRACK ROOM BALLADS

It*s none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin* «

your ease.
To watch the kites a-wheeUn round them feather-]

'eaded trees.
For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't nc

barrick-yards.
So the orficers goes shootin' an the men they playsl

at cards.

Till it's best foot first, . . .

So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grum- ]

blin' sore, j

There 's worser things than marchin' from Umballa |

to Cawnpore ; \

An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt

like 'ell.
You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will]

make 'em well.

For it 's best foot first, .

We 're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strant
Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and]
the Band ;

■; J

ROUTE MARCHIN'

69

! get away you buUock-maii, you've 'card the
bugle blowed^
There 's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk
; Road ;

With its best foot first

And the road a-sliding past^

An' every bloomin* campin -ground exactly

Hke the last ;
While the Big Drum says.
With 'is ' rowdy-dowdy-dow ! ' —
' Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argyjow ? '

SHILLIN' A DAY

My name is O'Kelly^ I 've heard the Revelly

From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore^,

Hong-Kong and Peshawur,

Lucknow and Etawah,

And fifty-five more all endin' in 'pore.'

Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the

thickness, 'jf

Of sorrow and sickness I 've known on my way, ^

But I 'm old and I 'm nervis,
I 'm cast from the Service,
And all I deserve is a shillin' a day.

(Chorus) Shillin' a day,

Bloomin' good pay —

Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day !

Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I
Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side,

70

1

SHILLIN' A DAY

len we rode Hell-for-leather

)th squadrons together,

didn't care whether we lived or we died,
it it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin'

me commissairin' the pay-bills to better,
if me you be 'old
the wet and the cold,
ly the Grand Metropold won't you give me a letter ?

^ull chorus) Give 'im a letter —
'Can't do no better.
Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an' — runs

with a letter !
Think what 'e's been,
Think what 'e's seen.
Think of his pension an'

Gawd save the Queen

OTHER VERSES

I

THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST

East is East, and West is West, and never the twain

shall meet,
"ill Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great

Judgment Seat ;
\ut there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed,

nor Birth,
^hen two strong meyi stand Jac3 to face, thd they come

from the ends of the earth I

Carnal is out with twenty men to raise the Border-
side,

ind he has lifted the Colonel's mare that is the
Colonel's pride :

[e has lifted her out of the stable-door between the
dawn and the day,

md turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden
her far away.

76

76 EAST AND WEST

Then up and spoke the Colonel's son that led

troop of the Guides :
' Is there never a man of all ray men can say whei

Kamal hides ? *
Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of

the Ressaldar:
' If ye know the track of the morning-mist, ye know

where his pickets are.
' At dusk he harries the Abazai — at dawn he is into

Bonair,
' But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to

fare,
' So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can

fly.

* By the favour of God ye may cut him off ere he

win to the Tongue of Jagai.
' But if he be past the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly

turn ye then,
' For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain

is sown with Kamal' s men.

* There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and

lew lean thorn between,
' And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a
man is seen/

EAST AND WEST

77

The Colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw
rough dun was he.

With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell
and the head of the gallows-tree.
\e Colonel's son to the Fort has won, they bid him

stay to eat —
'ho rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not

long at his meat.
[e 's up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he
can fly,

Till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of
the Tongue of Jagai,

'ill he was aware of his father's mare with Kamal

upon her back,
Lnd when he could spy the white of her eye, he
made the pistol crack.

He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whist-
ling ball went wide.

Ye shoot like a soldier,' Kamal said. ^ Show now
if ye can ride.'

[t's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as blown dust-
devils go,

'he dun he fled like a stag ot ten, but the mare like
a barren doe.

78 THE BALLAD OF

The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his

head above,
But the red mare played with the snaffie-bars, as a

maiden plays with a glove.
There was rock to the left and rock to the right,

and low lean thorn between,
And thrice he heard a breech-bolt snick tho' never

a man was seen.
They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their

hoofs drum up the dawn.
The dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare

like a new-roused fawn.
The dun he fell at a water-course — in a woful heap

fell he,
And Kamal has turned the. red mare back, and

pulled the rider free.
He has knocked the pistol out of his hand — small

room was there to strive,
^'Twas only by favour of mine,' quoth he, 'ye rode

so long alive :
' There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was

not a clump of tree,
' But covered a man of my own men with his rifle

cocked on his knee.

e

n

EAST AND WEST 79

^B it low^

^The little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all

in a row :
^K I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have
^B held it high,

^Kie kite that whistles above us now were gorged
^B till she could not fly/

^fchtly answered the Colonel's son; 'Do good to
^B bird and beast,
' But count who come for the broken meats before
thou makest a feast.

there should follow a thousand swords to cany
my bones away,
jlike the price of a jackal's meal were more than
a thief could pay.
ley will feed their horse on the standing crop,

their men on the garnered grain,
le thatch of the byres will serve their fires when

all the cattle are slain,
it if thou thinkest the price be fair, — thy brethren
wait to sup,

le hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, — howl, dog,
and call them up !

80 THE BALLAD OF j

'And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer

and gear and stack,
'Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my

own way back ! '
Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him

upon his feet.
' No talk shall be of dogs,* said he, ' when wolf and

grey wolf meet.
' May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or 1

breath ; ;

* What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at j

the dawn with Death } ' \

Lightly answered the Colonel's son ; * I hold by the il

blood of my clan : \

' Take up the mare for my father's gift — by God,

she has carried a man ! ' ^

The red mare ran to the Colonel's son, and nuzzled s

against his breast ; \ \

* We be two strong men,' said Kamal then, ' but shej

loveth the younger best.
' So she shall go with a hfter's dower, my turquoise-^
studded rein,

* My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver

stirrups twain.'

I

EAST AND WEST

81

The Colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-

»end,
e have taken the one from a foe/ said he ; ' will
ye take the mate from a friend ? '
' A gift for a gift,' said Kamal straight ; ' a limb for
H| the risk of a limb.
' Thy father has sent his son to me, I '11 send my
son to him ! '
ith that he whistled his only son, that dropped
from a mountain-crest —

trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he
looked like a lance in rest.
ow here is thy master/ Kamal said, ' who leads a
troop of the Guides,

d thou must ride at his left side as shield on
shoulder rides,
ill Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and
board and bed,

y life is his — thy fate it is to guard him with
thy head.
, thou must eat the White Queen's meat, and ail
her foes are thine,

d thou must harry thy father's hold for the
peace of the Border-line,

82 THE BALLAD OF

*" And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy
way to power —
Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am
hanged in Peshawui*.*

They have looked each other between the eyes, and

there they found no fault.
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood •

on leavened bread and salt :
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood

on fire and fresh-cut sod, J

On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and 't.

the Wondrous Names of God.
The Colonel's son he rides the mare and Kamal's

boy the dun,
And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where

there went forth but one.
And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, full

twenty swords flew clear —
There was not a man but carried his feud with the

blood of the mountaineer.
' Ha' done ! ha' done ! ' said the Colonel's son.

' Put up the steel at your sides !

EAST AND WEST

83

ist night ye had struck at a Border thief — to-
night 'tis a man of the Guides ! '

kj East is East J and West is West, and never the twain

shall meet,

^ill Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great
Judgment Seat ;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed,
H nor Birth,

When two strong men stand face to face, iho they come
from the ends of the earth 1

THE LAST SUTTEE

Not many years ago a King died in one of the Rajpoot
States. His wives j disregarding the orders of the English
against Suttee , would have broken out of the palace had not
the gates been barred. But one of them, disguised as the
King's favourite dancing-girl, passed through the line of
guards and reached the pyre. There, her courage failing,
she prayed her cousin, a baron of the court, to kill her.
This he did, not knowing who she was.

Udai Chand lay sick to death

In his hold by Gungra hill.
All night we heard the death-gongs ring
For the soul of the dying Rajpoot King,
All night beat up from the women's wing

A cry that we could not still.

All night the barons came and went.

The lords of the outer guard :
All night the cressets glimmered pale
On Ulwar sabre and Tonk jezail,
Mewar headstall and Marwar mail.

That clinked in the palace yard.

THE LAST SUTTEE 85

In the Golden room on the palace roof

All night he fought for air :
And there was sobbing behind the screen.
Rustle and whisper of women unseen.
And the hungry eyes of the Boondi Queen

On the death she might not share.

He passed at dawn — the death-fire leaped

From ridge to river-head.
From the Malwa plains to the Abu scars :
And wail upon wail went up to the stars
Behind the grim zenana-bars.

When they knew that the King was dead.

The dumb priest knelt to tie his mouth

And robe him for the pyre.
The Boondi Queen beneath us cried :
' See, now, that we die as our mothers died
' In the bridal-bed by our master's side !

' Out, women ! — to the fire ! '

We drove the great gates home apace
White hands were on the sill :

THE LAST SUTTEE

But ere the rush of the unseen feet
Had reached the turn to the open street.
The bars shot down, the guard-drum beat —
We held the dovecot still.

A face looked down in the gathering day,
And laughing spoke from the wall :

' Ohe, they mourn here : let me by —

' Azizun, the Lucknow nautch-girl, I !

' When the house is rotten, the rats must fly,
' And I seek another thrall.

' For I ruled the King as ne'er did Queen,—

' To-night the Queens rule me !
' Guard them safely, but let me go,
' Or ever they pay the debt they owe
' In scourge and torture ! ' She leaped below,
And the grim guard watched her flee.

They knew that the King had spent his soul

On a North-bred dancing-girl :
That he prayed to a flat-nosed Lucknow god.
And kissed the ground where her feet had trod.
And doomed to death at her drunken nod.
And swore by her lightest curl.

THE LAST SUTTEE

87

We bore the King to his fathers' place,

Where the tombs of the Sun-born stand :
Where the grey apes swing, and the peacocks preen
On fretted pillar and jewelled screen.
And the wild boar couch in the house of the
Queen
On the drift of the desert sand.

The herald read his titles forth.

We set the logs aglow :
' Friend of the English, free from fear,
^ Barcn of Luni to Jeysulmeer,
* Lord of the Desert of Bikaneer,

' King of the Jungle, — go ! '

All night the red flame stabbed the sky
With wavering wind-tossed spears :
And out of a shattered temple crept
A woman who veiled her head and wept.
And called on the King — but the great King

slept.
And turned not for her tears.

Small thought had he to mark the strife —
Cold fear with hot desire —

88 THE LAST SUTTEE

When thrice she leaped from the leaping flame.
And thrice she beat her breast for shame.
And thrice like a wounded dove she came
And moaned about the fire.

One watched, a bow-shot from the blaze.

The silent streets between.
Who had stood by the King in sport and fray,
To blade in ambush or boar at bay.
And he was a baron old and grey.

And kin to the Boondi Queen.

He said : • O shameless, put aside

' The veil upon thy brow !
' Who held the King and all his land
' To the wanton will of a harlot's hand !
* Will the white ash rise from the blistered brand ?

' Stoop down, and call him now ! '

Then she : ' By the faith of my tarnished soul,

' All things I did not well,
' I had hoped to clear ere the fire died,
' And lay me down by my master's side
' To rule in Heaven his only bride,

'While the others howl in Hell.

THE LAST SUTTEE

pBut I have felt the fire's breath,

* And hard it is to die I
' Yet if I may pray a Rajpoot lord
'To sully the steel of a Thakur's sword
' With base-born blood of a trade abhorred/ —

And the Thakur answered, ' Ay/

He drew and struck : the straight blade drank
The life beneath the breast.

* I had looked for the Queen to face the flame,

* But the harlot dies for the Rajpoot dame —
' Sister of mine, pass, free from shame,

' Pass with thy King to rest ! '

The black log crashed above the white :

The little flames and lean.
Red as slaughter and blue as steel.
That whistled and fluttered from head to heel,
J Leaped up anew, for they found their meal
On the heart of — the Boondi Queen !

THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCY

Abdhur Bahmaiij the Durani Chief, of him is the i

story told. j

His mercy Jills the Khyber hills — his grace is j

manifold ;

He has taken toll of the North and the South — his j

glory reacheth far, \

And they tell the tale of his charity from Balkh to \

Kandahar. (

i

Before the old Peshawur Gate, where Kui-d and !

Kaffir meet,
The Governor of Kabul dealt the Justice of the

Street,
And that was strait as running noose and swift

plunging knife,
Tho' he who held the longer purse might hold the l

longer life.

90

4

I

THE KING'S MERCY 91

lere was a hound of Hindustan had struck a

Euzufzai,
'^herefore they spat upon his face and led him out
to die.
[t chanced the King went forth that hour when

throat was bared to knife ;
'he Kaffir grovelled under-hoof and clamoured for
his life.

^'hen said the King : ' Have hope, O friend ! Yea,

Death disgraced is hard ;
Much honour shall be thine;' and called the Captain

of the Guard,
Yar Khan, a bastard of the Blood, so city-babble

saith.
And he was honoured of the King — the which is

salt to Death ;
And he was son of Daoud Shah, the Reiver of the

Plains,
And blood of old Durani Lords ran fire in his veins ;
And 'twas to tame an Afghan pride nor Hell nor

Heaven could bind.
The King would make him butcher to a yelping cur

of Hind.

92 THE BALLAD OF

' Strike ! ' said the King. ' King's blood art thou-

his death shall be his pride ! '
Then louder, that the crowd might catch : ' Fear

not — his arms are tied ! '
Yar Khan drew clear the Khyber knife, and struck,

and sheathed again.
' O man, thy will is done,' quoth he ; 'A King this

dog hath slain.'

Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, to the North

and the South is sold.
The North and the South shall open their mouth to

a Ghilzaijlag unrolled,
When the big guns speak to the Khyber peak, and

his dog-Heratis Jly :
Ye have heard the song — Hojv long ? How long ?

Wolves of the Abazai !

That night before the watch was set, when all the

streets were clear.
The Governor of Kabul spoke : ' My King, hast thou

no fear ?
' Thou knowest — thou hast heard,' — his speech died

at his master's face.

THE KING'S MERCY 93

Lnd grimly said the Afghan King : ' I rule the

Afghan race.
My path is mine — see thou to thine — to-night upon

thy bed
[Think who there be in Kabul now that clamour for

thy head.'

lat night when all the gates were shut to City and

to throne,
^ithin a little garden house the King lay down

alone,
kfore the sinking of the moon, which is the Night

of Night,
'ar Khan came softly to the King to make his

honour white,
'he children of the town had mocked beneath his

horse's hoofs,
'he harlots of the town had hailed him ' butcher ! '

from their roofs.
Jut as he groped against the wall, two hands upon

him fell,
le King behind his shoulder spake : ' Dead man,

thou dost not well !

94 THE BALLAD OF

' 'Tis ill to jest with Kings by day and seek a boon

by night;
' And that thou bearest in thy hand is all too sharp

to write.
' But three days hence^ if God be good^ and if thy

strength remain,
' Thou shalt demand one boon of me and bless me

in thy pain.
' For I am merciful to all, and most of all to thee.
' My butcher of the shambles, rest — no knife hast

thou for me ! '

Ahdlmr Rahman, the Durani Chief, holds hard hy

the South and the North ;
But the Ghilzai knoivs, ere the melting snows, when

the swollen hanks break forth,
When the red-coats crawl to the sungar wall, aiid

his Usbeg lances fail :
Ye have heard the song — How lofig ? How long

Wolves of the Zuka Kheyl !

They stoned him in the rubbish-field when dawn_

was in the sky.
According to the written word, ' See that he do not

die.'

THE KING'S MERCY

95

They stoned him till the stones were piled above
him on the plain,
md those the labom-ing limbs displaced they
tumbled back again.

hie watched beside the dreary mound that veiled
the battered thing,
id him the King with laughter called the Herald
of the King.

was upon the second night, the night of Ramazan,
The watcher leaning earthward heard the message

of Yar Khan.
horn shattered breast through shrivelled lips broke

forth the rattling breath,
iCreature of God, deliver me from agony of Death.'

ley sought the King among his girls, and risked
their lives thereby :
'Protector of the Pitiful, give orders that he die ! *

^Bid him endure until the day,' a lagging answer

came;
[The night is short, and he can pray and learn to

bless my name.'

9G

THE KING'S MERCY

Before the dawn three times he spoke, and on

day once more : ^^V'

* Creature of God, deliver me, and bless the King
therefor ! '

They shot him at the morning prayer, to ease him

of his pain.
And when he heard the matchlocks clink, he blessed j

the King again. \

Which thing the singers made a song for all the
» world to sing,

So that the Outer Seas may know the mercy of the
King. i

Ahdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the

story told, j

He has opened his mouth to the North and the \

South, they have stuffed his mouth 7vith gold. \
Ye know the truth of his tender ruth — and sweet his ]

favours are :
Ye have heard the song — How long ? How long ?

from Balkh to Kandahar.

THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JEST

When spring-time flushes the desert grass.

Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass.

Lean are the camels but fat the frails,

Light are the purses but heavy the bales,

As the snowbound trade of the North comes down

To the market-square of Peshawur town.

In a turquoise twilight, crisp and chill,
A kafila camped at the foot of the hill.
Then blue smoke-haze of the cooking rose.
And tent-peg answered to hammer-nose ;
And the picketed ponies, shag and wild.
Strained at their ropes as the feed was piled ;
And the bubbling camels beside the load
Sprawled for a furlong adown the road ;
And the Persian pussy-cats, brought for sale.
Spat at the dogs from the camel-bale ;

98 THE BALLAD OF

And the tribesmen bellowed to hasten the food ;
And the camp-fires twinkled by Fort Jumrood ;
And there fled on the wings of the gathering dusk
A savour of camels and carpets and musk,
A murmur of voices, a reek of smoke.
To tell us the trade of the Khyber woke.

The lid of the flesh-pot chattered high.

The knives were whetted and — then came I

To Mahbub Ali the muleteer.

Patching his bridles and counting his gear.

Crammed with the gossip of half a year.

But Mahbub Ali the kindly said,

' Better is speech when the belly is fed.'

So we plunged the hand to the mid-wrist deep

In a cinnamon stew of the fat-tailed sheep.

And he who never hath tasted the food.

By Allah ! he knoweth not bad from good.

We cleansed our beards of the mutton-grease,
We lay on the mats and were filled with peace,
And the talk slid north, and the talk slid south,
With the shding puffs from the hookah-mouth.

,1

THE KING'S JEST 99

Four things greater than all things are, —
Women and Horses and Power and War.
We spake of them all, but the last the most,
For I sought a word of a Russian post.
Of a shifty promise, an unsheathed sword
And a grey-coat guard on the Helmund ford.
Then Mahbub All lowered his eyes
In the fashion of one who is weaving lies.
Quoth he : ' Of the Russians who can say }
' When the night is gathering all is grey.

$ut we look that the gloom of the night shall die
the morning flush of a blood-red sky.

•"riend of my heart, is it meet or wise

'o warn a King of his enemies ?
'^e know what Heaven or Hell may bring,

lut no man knoweth the mind of the King,
lat unsought counsel is cursed of God

ittesteth the story of Wali Dad.

[is sire was leaky of tongue and pen,

[is dam was a clucking Khuttuck hen ;

ind the colt bred close to the vice of each,

[or he carried the curse of an unstanched s])eech.

100 THE BALLAD OF

' Therewith madness — so tliat he sought

' The favour of kings at the Kabul court ;

*And travelled, in hope of honour, far

' To the line where the grey-coat squadrons are.

'There have I journeyed too — but I

' Saw naught, said naught, and — did not die !

' He hearked to rumour, and snatched at a breath

' Of " this one knoweth " and " that one saith," —

' Legends that ran from mouth to mouth

' Of a grey-coat coming, and sack of the South.

' These have I also heard — they pass

' With each new spring and the winter grass.

' Hot-foot southward, forgotten of God,

* Back to the city ran Wali Dad,

' Even to Kabul — in full durbar

' The King held talk with his Chief in War.

' Into the press of the crowd he broke,

' And what he had heard of the coming spoke.

'Then Gholam Hyder, the Red Chief, smiled,

' As a mother might on a babbling child ;

' But those who would laugh restrained their breath,

' When the face of the King showed dark as death.

THE KING'S JEST

101

Ivil it is in full durbar
o cry to a ruler of gathering war !
llowly he led to a peach-tree small,
hat grew by a cleft of the city wall.
' ' And he said to the boy : ''They shall praise thy zeal

' " So long as the red spurt follows the steel.
^^' And the Russ is upon us even now }
^K' Great is thy prudence — await them, thou.
^w' Watch from the tree. Thou art young and strong,
^Kt' Surely thy vigil is not for long.
^^" The Russ is upon us, thy clamour ran }

' '' Surely an hour shall bring their van.
, ' " Wait and watch. When the host is near,
' Shout aloud that my men may hear."

' riend of my heart, is it meet or wise
?o warn a King of his enemies ?
guard was set that he might not flee —
score of bayonets ringed the tree,
'he peach-bloom fell in showers of snow,
fWhen he shook at liis death as he looked below.
SBy the power of God, who alone is great,
'ill the seventh day he fought with his fate.

102 THE KING'S JEST

' Then madness took him, and men declare

^ He mowed in the branches as ape and bear,

' And last as a sloth, ere his body failed-,

' And he hung as a bat in the forks, and wailed,

' And sleep the cord of his hands untied,

' And he fell, and was caught on the points and died.

' Heart of my heart, is it meet or wise
' To warn a King of his enemies ?
' We know what Heaven or Hell may bring,
' But no man knoweth the mind of the King.
' Of the grey-coat coming who can say ?
* When the night is gathering all is grey.
' Two things greater than all things are,
'The first is Love, and the second War.
'And since we know not how War may prove,
' Heart of my heart, let us talk of Love ! '

WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought
ir Delhi, an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day
~was lost with a heggar-girl, who had loved him and followed
him in all his camps, on his saddle-how. He lost the girl
\en almost within sight of safety. A Maratta trooper
Us the story : —

*HE wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on
the neck.
Our hands and scarves were saflFron-dyed for signal

of despair,
»en we went forth to Paniput to battle with the

Mlech, —
Ere we came back from Paniput and left a king-
dom there.

Thrice thirty thousand men were we to force the
Jumna fords —
The hawk-winged horse of Damajee, mailed
squadrons of the Bhao,

108

104 WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

Stark levies of the southern hills, the Deccan's
sharpest swords.
And he the harlot's traitor son the goatherd
Mulhar Rao !

Thrice thirty thousand men were we before the mists
had cleared.
The low white mists of morning heard the war-
conch scream and bray ; !
We called upon Bhowani and we gripped them by '
the beard, j
We rolled upon them like a flood and washed then* ^
ranks away.

The children of the hills of Khost before our lances
ran,
We drove the black Rohiilas back as cattle to the
pen;
'Twas then we needed Mulhar Rao to end what
began,

A thousand men had saved the charge ; he fle<
the field with ten !

WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

105

i'here was no room to clear a sword — no power to
strike a blow.
For foot to foot, ay, breast to breast, the battle

held us fast —
ive where the naked hill-men ran, and stabbing

from below

Brought down the horse and rider and we trampled
them and passed.

'o left the roar of musketry rang like a falling
flood-
To right the sunshine rippled red from redder
lance and blade —
tbove the dark Upsaras'^ flew, beneath us plashed
the blood.
And, bellying black against the dust, the Bhagwa
Jhanda swayed.

saw it fall in smoke and fire, the banner of the

Bhao;
I heard a voice across the press of one who called

in vain : —

1 The Choosers of the Slain.

106 WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

• Ho ! Anand Rao Nimbalkhur, ride ! Get aid of
Mulhar Rao !
' Go shame his squadrons into fight — the Bhao —
the Bhao is slain I *

Thereat, as when a sand-bar breaks in clotted spume

and spray — I

When rain of later autumn sweeps the Jumna j

water-head.

Before their charge from flank to flank our riven '

ranks gave way ; )

But of the waters of that flood the Jumna fords i

ran red. I

I held by Scindia, my lord, as close as man might
hold ;
A Soobah of the Deccan asks no aid to guard his
life;
But Holkar's Horse were flying, and our chiefest
chiefs were cold.
And like a flame among us leapt the long lean
Northern knife.

It

i

WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

107

held by Scindia — my lance from butt to tuft was

dyed.
The froth of battle bossed the shield and roped

the bridle-chain —
"^hat time beneath our horses' feet a maiden rose

and cried.
And clung to Scindia, and I turned a sword-cut

from the twain.

[He set a spell upon the maid in woodlands

long ago,
A hunter by the Tapti banks she gave him water

there :
[e turned her heart to water, and she followed to

her woe.
What need had he of Lalun who had twenty

maids as fair ?'^

fow in that hour strength left my lord; he wrenched

his mare aside ;
He bound the girl behind him and we slashed and
struggled free.

10b WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

Across the reeling wreck of strife we rode as shadows
ride
From Paniput to Delhi town, but not alone
were we.

'Twas Lutuf-Ullah Populzai laid horse upon our

tracks |i

A swine-fed reiver of the North that lusted for the
maid ;
I might have barred his path awhile, but Scindia i
called me back.
And I — O woe for Scindia! — I listened and
obeyed.

League after league the formless scrub took shape
and glided by —
League after league the white road swirled behind
the white mare's feet —
League after league, when leagues were done, we
heard the Populzai,
Where sure as Time and swift as Death the tireless
footfall beat.

i

WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

109

foon's eye beheld that shame of flight, the shadows
fell, we fled
Where steadfast as the wheeling kite he followed
in our train ;
^he black wolf warred where we had warred, the
jackal mocked our dead.
And terror born of twilight-tide made mad the
labouring brain.

gasped : — ^ A kingdom waits my lord ; her love is

but her own.
' A day shall mar, a day shall cure for her, but what

for thee ?
Cut loose the girl : he follows fast. Cut loose and

ride alone ! '
Then Scindia 'twixt his blistered lips : — ' My

Queens' Queen shall she be !

Of all who ate my bread last night 'twas she alone
that came
To seek her love between the spears and find her
crown tlierein !

b

WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

' One shame is mine to-day^ what need the weight oj

double shame ?

' If once we reach the Delhi gate, though all b<

lost, I win !'

We rode — the white mare failed — her trot a stagger-
ing stumble grew, —
The cooking-smoke of even rose and weltered and \

hung low ;
And still we heard the Populzai and still we strained
anew,
And Delhi town was very near, but nearer was
the foe.

VI

Yea, Delhi town was very near when Lalun whispered :
— ^ Slay !
' Lord of my life, the mare sinks fast — stab deep
and let me die ! '
But Scindia would not, and the maid tore free and
flung away.
And turning as she fell we heard the clattering
Populzai.

WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI

111

Then Scindia checked the gasping mare that rocked
and gi'oaned for breath,
And wheeled to charge and plunged the knife a
handsbreadth in her side —
The hunter and the hunted know how that last pause
is death —
The blood had chilled about her heart, she reared
and fell and died.

Our Gods were kind. Before he heard the maiden's
piteous scream
A log upon the Delhi road, beneath the mare he
lay — •
Lost mistress and lost battle passed before him like
a dream ;
The darkness closed about his eyes — I bore my
King away.

THE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONE

21iis is the ballad of Boh Da Thone,
Erst a Pretender to Theebaws throne.
Who harried the district of Alalone :
How he met with his fate and the V.P.P.
At the hand of Harendra Mukerji,
Senior Gomashta, G.B.T.

Boh Da Thone was a warrior bold :

His sword and his Snider were bossed with gold,

And the Peacock Banner his henchmen bore
Was stiff with bullion, but stiffer with gore.

He shot at the strong and he slashed at the weak
From the Salween scrub to the Chindwin teak :

He crucified noble, he sacrificed mean.
He filled old ladies with kerosene :

While over the water the papers cried,
' Tlie patriot fights for his countryside !'

112

><W

BOH DA THONE 113

»ut little they cared for the Native Press,
^he worn white soldiers in Khaki dress,

lo tramped through the jungle and camped in
the byre,

'^ho died in the swamp and were tombed in the
mire,

'^ho gave up their lives, at the Queen's Command,
''or the Pride of their Race and the Peace of the
Land.

low, first of the foemen of Boh Da Thone
^as Captain O'Neil of the 'Black Tyrone,'

ind his was a Company, seventy strong,
'ho hustled that dissolute Chief along.

'here were lads from Galway and Louth and

Meath
'^ho went to their death with a joke in their teeth,

ind worshipped with fluency, fervour, and zeal
le mud on the boot-heels of ' Crook ' O'Neil.

lut ever a blight on their labours lay,
tnd ever their quarry would vanish away,

H

114 THE BALLAD OF

Till the sun-dried boys of the Black Tyrone
Took a brotherly interest in Boh Da Thone :

And, sooth, if pursuit in possession ends,
The Boh and his trackers were best of friends.

The word of a scout — a march by night —

A rush through the mist — a scattering fight —

A volley from cover — a corpse in the clearing —
The glimpse of a loin-cloth and heavy jade earring —

The flare of a village — the tally of slain — ■

And . . . the Boh was abroad ' on the raid ' again ! !

j
They cursed their luck, as the Irish will, j

They gave him credit for cunning and skill,

j
They buried their dead, they bolted their beef, j

And started anew on the track of the thief

Till, in place of the ' Kalends of Greece,' men said,
' When Crook and his darlings come back with the
head.' i)

They had hunted the Boh from the hills to the I]

plain —
He doubled and broke for the hills again :

BOH DA THONE Hi

They had crippled his power for rapine and raid,
They had routed him out of his pet stockade,

And at last, they came, when the Day Star tired.
To a camp deserted — a village fired.

A black cross blistered the Morning-gold,
And the body upon it was stark and cold.

The wind of the dawn went merrily past.
The high grass bowed her plumes to the blast.

And out of the grass, on a sudden, broke
A spirtle of fire, a whorl of smoke —

And Captain O' Neil of the Black Tyrone
Was blessed with a slug in the ulnar-bone —
j'he gift of his enemy Boh Da Thone.

low a slug that is hammered from telegraph-wire
a thorn in the flesh and a rankling fire.)

le shot-wound festered — as shot-wounds may
a steaming barrack at Mandalay.

ie left a/m throbbed, and the Captain swore,
'd like to be after the Boh once more !'

116 THE BALLAD OF

The fever held him — the Captain said,
' I 'd give a hundred to look at his head !'

The Hospital punkahs creaked and whirred,
But Babu Harendra (Gomashta) heard.

He thought of the cane-brake, green and dank.
That girdled his home by the Dacca tank.

He thought of his wife and his High School son.
He thought — but abandoned the thought — of a gun.

His sleep was broken by visions dread
Of a shining Boh with a silver head.

He kept his counsel and went his way.
And swindled the cartmen of half their pay.

And the months went on, as the worst must do.
And the Boh returned to the raid anew.

But the Captain had quitted the long-drawn strife.
And in far Simoorie had taken a wife.

And she was a damsel of delicate mould,
With hair like the sunshine and heart of gold,

BOH DA THONE 117

ind little she knew the arms that embraced
[ad cloven a man from the brow to the waist :

md little she knew that the loving lips
[ad ordered a quivering life's eclipse.

And the eye that lit at her lightest breath
Had glared unawed in the Gates of Death.

(For these be matters a man would hide.
As a general rule, from an innocent Bride.)

And little the Captain thought of the past,
And, of all men, Babu Harendra last.

But slow, in the sludge of the Kathun road.
The Government Bullock Train toted its load.

Speckless and spotless and shining with ghee,
In the rearmost cart sat the Babu-jee.

And ever a phantom before him fled
Of a scowling Boh with a silver bead.

I Then the lead-cart stuck, though the coolies slaved,
jA-nd the cartmen flogged and the escort raved ;
I

118

THE BALLAD OF

And out of the jungle, with yells and squeals,
Pranced Boh Da Thone, and his gang at his heels !

Then belching blunderbuss answered back
The Snider's snarl and the carbine's crack,

And the blithe revolver began to sing

To the blade that twanged on the locking-ring.

And the brown flesh blued where the bay'net

kissed.
As the steel shot back with a wrench and a twist.

And the great white bullocks with onyx eyes
Watched the souls of the dead arise.

And over the smoke of the fusillade

The Peacock Banner staggered and swayed.

Oh, gayest of scrimmages man may see
Is a well-worked rush on the G.B.T. !

The Babu shook at the horrible sight.
And girded his ponderous loins for flight.

But Fate had ordained that the Boh should start
On a lone-hand raid of the rearmost cart,

BOH DA THONE 119

Lnd out of that cart, with a bellow of woe,
le Babu fell — flat on the top of the Boh !

For years had Harendra served the State,
To the growth of his purse and the girth of his
pet.

There were twenty stone, as the tally-man knows.
On the broad of the chest of this best of Bohs.

And twenty stone from a height discharged
Are bad for a Boh with a spleen enlarged.

Oh, short was the struggle — severe was the shock —
He dropped like a bullock — he lay like a block ;

And the Babu above him, convulsed with fear.
Heard the labouring life-breath hissed out in his
ear.

And thus in a fashion undignified

The princely pest of the Chindwin died.

Turn now to Simoorie where, lapped in his ease.
The Captain is petting the Bride on his knees,

THE BALLAD OF

Where the whit of the bullet, the wounded man's

scream
Are mixed as the mist of some devilish dream —

Forgotten, forgotten the sweat of the shambles
Where the hill-daisy blooms and the grey monkey
gambols.

From the sword-belt set free and released from the

steel.
The Peace of the Lord is with Captain O'Neil.

Up the hill to Simoorie — most patient of drudges —
The bags on his shoulder, the mail-runner trudges.

' For Captain O'Neil, Sahib. One hundred and ten
' Rupees to collect on deliveiy.'

Then

(Their breakfast was stopped while the screw-jack

and hammer
Tore waxcloth, split teak-wood, and chipped out

the dammer;)

Open-eyed, open-mouthed, on the napery's snow.
With a crash and a thud, rolled — the Head of the
Boh !

^ And gummed to the scalp was a letter which
ran: —

^In Fielding Force Service.
' Encampment,

' 10th Jan.

' Dear Sir, — I have honour to send, as you said,
' For final approval (see under) Boh's Head ;

■ ' Was took by myself in most bloody affair.
m ' By High Education brought pressure to bear.

' Now violate Liberty, time being bad,

'To mail V.P.P. (rupees hundred) Please add

' Whatever Your Honour can pass. Price of Blood
' Much cheap at one hundred, and children want food ;

' So trusting Your Honour will somewhat retain
* True love and affection for Govt. Bullock Train,

I

And show awful kindness to satisfy me,
'I am,

'Graceful Master,

'Your

' H. MUKERJI.'

122 THE BALLAD OF

As the rabbit is drawn to the rattlesnake's power,
As the smoker's eye fills at the opium hour,

As a horse reaches up to the manger above,

As the waiting ear yearns for the whisper of love.

From the arms of the Bride, iron-visaged and slow,
The Captain bent down to the Head of the Boh.

And e'en as he looked on the Thing where It lay
'Twixt the winking new spoons and the napkins'
array.

The freed mind fled back to the long-ago days —
The hand-to-hand scuffle — the smoke and the
blaze —

The forced march at night and the quick rush at

dawn —
The banjo at twilight, the burial ere mom —

The stench of the marshes — the raw, piercing smell
When the overhand stabbing-cut silenced the yell —

The oaths of his Irish that surged when they stood
jre th(
flood.

Where the black crosses hung o'er the Kuttamow

I

BOH DA THONE 123

As a derelict ship drifts away with the tide

The Captain went out on the Past from his Bride,

Back, back, through the springs to the chill of the

year.
When he hunted the Boh from Maloon to Tsaleer.

As the shape of a corpse dimmers up through deep

water.
In his eye lit the passionless passion of slaughter.

And men who had fought with O'Neil for the life
Had gazed on his face with less dread than his wife.

For she who had held him so long could not hold
him —

Though a four-month Eternity should have con-
trolled him —

But watched the twin Terror — the head turned to

head —
The scowling, scarred Black, and the flushed savage

Red—

The spirit that changed from her knowing and flew

to
Some grim hidden Past she had never a clue to.

124 BOH DA THONE

But It knew as It grinned, for he touched it un-
fearing.

And muttered aloud, ' So you kept that jade ear-
ring ! *

Then nodded, and kindly, as friend nods to friend,
'^ Old man, you fought well, but you lost in the end.'

The visions departed, and Shame followed Passion : —
' He took what I said in this horrible fashion,

'I'll write to Harendra ! ' With language unsainted
The Captain came back to the Bride . . . who had
fainted.

And this is a fiction ? No. Go to Simoorie

And look at their baby, a twelve-month old Houri,

A pert little, Irish-eyed Kathleen Mavournin —
She 's always about on the Mall of a mornin' —

And you'll see, if her right shoulder-strap is dis-
placed.
This : Giiles upon argent, a Boh's Head, erased f

[THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE
THIEF

O WOE is me for the merry life

I led beyond the Bar,
And a treble woe for my winsome wife

That weeps at Shalimar.

They have taken away my long jezail,

My shield and sabre fine.
And hea,ved me into the Central Jail

For lifting of the kine.

The steer may low within the byre,
The Jut may tend his grain.

But there '11 be neither loot nor fire
Till I come back again.

And God have mercy on the Jut
When once my fetters fall,

And Heaven defend the farmer's hut
When I am loosed from thrall.

125

THE

It 's woe to bend the stubborn back
Above the grinching quern,

It's woe to hear the leg-bar clack
And jingle when I turn !

But for the sorrow and the shame.
The brand on me and mine,

I Tl pay you back in leaping flame
And loss of the butchered kine.

For every cow I spared before

In charity set free,
If I may reach my hold once more

I '11 reive an honest three.

For every time I raised the lowe
That scared the dusty plain.

By sword and cord, by torch and tow
I '11 light the land with twain !

Ride hard, ride hard to Abazai,

Young Sahib with the yellow hair —

Lie close, lie close as khuttucks lie.
Fat herds below Bonair.

BORDER CAITLE THIEF 127

The one I '11 shoot at twilight-tide.

At dawn I '11 drive the other ;
The black shall mcum for hoof and hide.

The white man for his brother.

'Tis war, red war, I '11 give you then.

War till my sinews fail ;
For the wrong you have done to a chief of men.

And a thief of the Zukka Kheyl.

And if I fall to your hand afresh

I give you leave for the sin,
That you cram my throat with the foul pig's flesh.

And swing me in the skin !

THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS

This ballad appears to refer to one of the exploits of the
notorious Paul Jones, the American pirate. It is founded
on fact.

. . . At the close of a winter day,
Their anchors down, by London town, the Three

Great Captains lay ;
And one was Admiral of the North from Solway

Firth to Skye,
And one was Lord of the Wessex coast and all the

lands thereby.
And one was Master of the Thames from Limehouse

to Blackwall,
And he was Captain of the Fleet — the bravest of

them all.
Their good guns guarded the great grey sides that

were thirty foot in the sheer.
When there came a certain trading brig with news

of a privateer.

128

I

THE THREE CAPTAINS 129

Her rigging was rough with the clotted drift that

drives in a Northern breeze,
Her sides were clogged with the lazy weed that

spawns in the Eastern seas.
Light she rode in the rude tide-rip, to left and right

she rolled.
And the skipper sat on the scuttle-butt and stared

at an empty hold.
* I ha' paid Port dues for your Law/ quoth he, ' and

where is the Law ye boast
|. ' If I sail unscathed from a heathen port to be robbed
P on a Christian coast }

' Ye have smoked the hives of the Laccadives as we

burn the lice in a bunk,
' We tack not now to a Gallang prow or a plunging

Pei-ho junk ;
' I had no fear but the seas were clear as far as a sail

might fare
' Till I met with a lime-washed Yankee brig that rode

off Finisterre.
' There were canvas blinds to his bow-gun ports to

screen the weight he bore,
' And the signals ran for a merchantman from Sandy

Hook to the Nore.

I

130 THE RHYME OF

' He would not fly the Rovers' flag — the bloody or

the black,
' But now he floated the Gridiron and now he flaunted

the Jack.
' He spoke of the Law as he crimped my crew — he

swore it was only a loan ;
' But when I would ask for my own again, he swore

it was none of my own.
' He has taken my little parrakeets that nest beneath

the Line,
' He has stripped my rails of the shaddock-frails and

the green unripened pine ;
' He has taken my bale of dammer and spice I won

beyond the seas,
' He has taken my grinning heathen gods — and what

should he want o' these ?
' My foremast would not mend his boom, my deck-
house patch his boats ;
' He has whittled the two, this Yank Yahoo, to peddle

for shoe-peg oats.
' I could not fight for the failing light and a rough

beam-sea beside,
' But I hulled him once for a clumsy crimp and twice

because he lied.

J

THE THREE CAPTAINS 131

'Had I had guns (as I had goods) to work my

Christian harm,,
' I had ran him up from his quarter-deck to trade

with his own yard-arm ;
' I had nailed his ears to my capstan-head, and ripped

them off with a saw,
' And soused them in the bilgewater, and served them

to him raw ;
' I had flung him bHnd in a rudderless boat to rot in

the rocking dark,
' I had towed him aft of his own craft, a bait for his

brother shark ;
' I had lapped him round with cocoa husk, and

drenched him with the oil,
' And lashed him fast to his own mast to blaze above

my spoil ;
' I had stripped his hide for my hammock-side, and

tasselled his beard i* the mesh,
' And spitted his crew on the live bamboo that grows

through the gangrened flesh ;
'I had hove him down by the mangroves brown,

where the mud-reef sucks and draws,
* Moored by the heel to his own keel to wait for the

land-crab's claws !

132 THE RHYME OF

' He is lazar within and lime without, ye can nose

him far enow,
' For he carries the taint of a musky ship — the reek

of the slaver's dhow ! '
The skipper looked at the tiering guns and the

bulwarks tall and cold.
And the Captains Three full courteously peered

down at the gutted hold.
And the Captains Three called courteously from

deck to scuttle-butt : —
' Good Sir, we ha' dealt with that merchantman or

ever your teeth were cut.
' Your words be words of a lawless race, and the Law

it standeth thus :
' He comes of a race that have never a Law, and he

never has boarded us.
'We ha' sold him canvas and rope and spar — we

know that his price is fair,
^ And we know that he weeps for the lack of a Law

as he rides off Finisterre.
' And since he is damned for a gallows-thief by yo\

and better than you,
* We hold it meet that the English fleet should know

that we hold him true/

THE THREE CAPTAINS 133

'he skipper called to the tall tafFrail : — ' And what
is that to me ?
'Did ever you hear of a Yankee brig that rifled a

Seventy-three ?
* Do I loom so large from your quarter-deck that I

lift like a ship o' the Line ?
^ He has learned to run from a shotted gun and harry

such craft as mine.
'There is never a Law on the Cocos Keys to hold

a white man inj
'But we do not steal the niggers' meal, for that is a

nigger's sin.
' Must he have his Law as a quid to chaw^ or laid in

brass on his wheel ?
' Does he steal with tears when he buccaneers .'*

'Fore Gad, then, why does he steal .^'
The skipper bit on a deep-sea word, and the word

it was not sweet.
For he could see the Captains Three had signalled

to the Fleet.
But three and two, in white and blue, the whimpering

flags began : —
' We have heard a tale of a — foreign sail, but he is

a merchantman.'

134 THE RHYME OF

The skipper peered beneath his palm and swore by

the Great Horn Spoon : —
' 'Fore Gad, the Chaplain of the Fleet would bless

my picaroon ! '
By two and three the flags blew free to lash the

laughing air : —
' We have sold our spars to the merchantman — we

know that his price is fair/
The skipper winked his Western eye, and swore by

a China storm : —
' They ha* rigged him a Joseph's jury-coat to keep

his honour warm.'
The halliards twanged against the tops, the bunting

bellied broad.
The skipper spat in the empty hold and mourned

for a wasted cord.
Masthead — masthead, the signal sped by the line

o* the British craft ;
The skipper called to his Lascar crew, and put he]

about and laughed : —
' It 's mainsail haul, my bully boys all — we '11 out to

the seas again — I

* Ere they set us to paint their pirate saint, or scrub j

at his grapnel-chain. j

THE THREE CAPTAINS 135

' It 's fore-sheet free^ with her head to the sea^ and

the swing of the unbought brine —
'We'll make no sport in an English court till we

come as a ship o' the Line :
^Till we come as a ship o' the Line, my lads, of

thirty foot in the sheer,
' Lifting again from the outer main with news of a

privateer ;
'Flying his pluck at our mizzen-truck for weft of

Admiralty,
' Heaving his head for our dipsy-lead in sign that we

keep the sea.
' Then fore-sheet home as she lifts to the foam — we

stand on the outward tack,
'We are paid in the coin of the white man's trade —

the bezant is hard, ay, and black.
'^ The frigate-bird shall carry my word to the Kling

and the Orang-Laut
' How a man may sail from a heathen coast to be

robbed in a Christian port ;
' How a man may be robbed in Christian port while

Three Great Captains there
' Shall dip their flag to a slaver's rag — to show that

his trade is fair ! *

THE BALLAD OF THE ' CLAMPHERDOWN '

It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown '

Would sweep the Channel clean.
Wherefore she kept her hatches close
When the merry Channel chops arose,
To save the bleached marine.

She had one bow-gun of a hundred ton.

And a great stem-gun beside ;
They dipped their noses deep in the sea,
They racked their stays and stanchions free

In the wash of the wind-whipped tide.

It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown '

Fell in with a cruiser light
That carried the dainty Hotchkiss gun
And a pair o' heels wherewith to run

From the grip of a close-fought fight.

136

THE 'CLAMPHERDOWN' 137

She opened fire at seven miles —

As ye shoot at a bobbing cork —
And once she fired and twice she fired.
Till the bow-gun drooped like a lily tired

That lolls upon the stalk.

' Captain, the bow-gun melts apace,

' The deck-beams break below,
' 'Twere well to rest for an hour or twain,
' And botch the shattered plates again/

And he answered, ' Make it so/

She opened fire within the mile —

As ye shoot at the flying duck —
And the great stern-gun shot fair and true.
With the heave of the ship, to the stainless
blue,

And the great stem-turret stuck.

^ Captain, the turret fills with steam,

' The feed-pipes burst below —
^ You can hear the hiss of the helpless ram,
' You can hear the twisted runners jam/

And he answered, ' Turn and go ! '

138 THE BALLAD OF

It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown/

And grimly did she roll ;
Swung round to take the cruiser's fire
As the White Whale faces the Thresher's ire

When they war by the frozen Pole.

' Captain,, the shells are falling fast,

' And faster still fall we ;
• And it is not meet for English stock
' To bide in the heart of an eight-day clock

' The death they cannot see.'

' Lie down, lie down, my bold A.B.,

' We drift upon her beam ;
^ We dare not ram, for she can run ;
' And dare ye fire another gun,

* And die in the peeling steam ? '

It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown '

That carried an armour-belt ;
But fifty feet at stern and bow
Lay bare as the paunch of the purser's sow.

To the hail of the Nordenfeldt.

THE 'CLAMPHERDOWN' 189

tlaptain^ they hack us through and through ;
' The chilled steel bolts are swift !
i^e have emptied the bunkers in open sea,
heir shrapnel bursts where our coal should be.'
And he answered, ' Let her drift/

It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown/

Swung round upon the tide,
Her two dumb guns glared south and north.
And the blood and the bubbling steam ran forth.

And she ground the cruiser's side.

' Captain, they cry, the fight is done,

' They bid you send your sword.'
And he answered, *^ Grapple her stern and bow.
' They have asked for the steel. They shall have it
now;

' Out cutlasses and board I '

It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown,'

Spewed up four hundred men ;
And the scalded stokers yelped delight,
As they rolled in the waist and heard the fight,

Stamp o'er their steel-walled pen.

:

!

140 THE 'CLAMPHERDOWN'

They cleared the cruiser end to end.

From conning-tower to hold.
They fought as they fought in Nelson's fleet;
They were stripped to the waist, they were bare
to the feet.

As it was in the days of old.

It was the sinking ' Clampherdown '

Heaved up her battered side —
And carried a million pounds in steel.
To the cod and the corpse-fed conger-eel.

And the scour of the Channel tide.

It was the crew of the ' Clampherdown '

Stood out to sweep the sea.
On a cruiser won from an ancient foe.
As it was in the days of long ago.

And as it still shall be.

THE BALLAD OF THE ^BOLIVAR*

Seven men from all the world hack to Docks again ,
Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising

Cain :
Give the girls another drink 'fore we sign away —
We that took the * Bolivar' out across the Bay !

We put out from Sunderland loaded down with
rails;
We put back to Sunderland 'cause our cargo
shifted ;
We put out from Sunderland — met the winter
gales —
Seven days and seven nights to the Start we
drifted.

Racketing her rivets loose^ smoke-stack white

as snow.
All the coals adrift adeck, half the rails below,

141

142 THE BALLAD OF

Leaking like a lobster-pot^ steering like a

dray —
Out we took the ' Bolivar/ out across the Bay !

One by one the Lights came up, winked and let us
by;
Mile by mile we waddled on, coal and fo'c'sle
short ;
Met a blow that laid us down, heard a bulk-
head fly ;
Left the 'Wolf behind us with a two-foot list to
port.

Trailing like a wounded duck, working out her

soul;
Clanging like a smithy-shop after every roll ;
Jub't a funnel and a mast lurching through the

spray-
So we threshed the ' Bolivar' out across the Baj

Felt her hog and felt her sag, betted when she'

I
break ; '

Wondered every time she raced if she 'd stand the i

shock ;

THE ^BOLIVAR' 143

Teard the seas like drunken men pounding at her

strake ;
Hoped the Lord 'ud keep his thumb on the
■ plummer-block.

Banged against the iron decks^ bilges choked
with coal ;

Flayed and frozen foot and handj sick of heart
and soul ;

Last we prayed she 'd buck herself into Judg-
ment Day —

Hi ! we cursed the ' Bolivar ' knocking round
the Bay !

O her nose flung up to sky^ groaning to be still —
Up and down and back we went, never time for
breath ;
Then the money paid at Lloyd's caught her by the
heel.
And the stars ran round and round dancin at our
death.

Aching for an hour s sleep, dozing off between ;
Heard the rotten rivets draw when she took it
green ;

144 THE BALLAD OF

Watched the compass chase its tail like a cat at

play-
That was on the ' Bolivar/ south across the Bay.

Once we saw between the squalls, lyin head to

swell — 1

Mad with work and weariness, wishin' they was i

we — I

Some damned Liner's lights go by like a grand j

hotel ; i

Cheered her from the 'Bolivar' swampin' in j

the sea.

Then a greyback cleared us out, then the :

skipper laughed ; \

'Boys, the wheel has gone to Hell — rig the i

winches aft ! j

' Yoke the kicking rudder-head — get her under j

way ! ' j

So we steered her, pully-haul, out across the j

Bay! i

Just a pack o* rotten plates puttied up with tar, ]

In we came, an' time enough, 'cross Bilbao Bar. I

I

7

5

THE ' BOLIVAR

145

Overloaded, undermanned;, meant to fomider,

we
Euchred God Almighty's storm, bluffed the

Eternal Sea !

Seven men from all the world, hack to town again,
Rollin' down the Ratcliffe Road dirunJc and raising

Cain :
Seven men from out of Hell, Ain't the owners gay,
'Cause we took the ' Bolivar' safe across the Bay ?

THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai
Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai
Hath told the 7nen of Gorukh. Thence the tale
Comes westward o'er the peaks to India.

The story of Bisesa, Armod's child, —
A maiden phghted to the Chief in War,
The Man of Sixty Spears, who held the Pass
That leads to Thibet, but to-day is gone
To seek his comfort of the God called Budh
The Silent — showing how the Sickness ceased
Because of her who died to save the tribe.

Taman is One and greater than us all,
Taman is One and greater than all Gods :
Taman is Two in One and rides the sky.
Curved like a stallion's croup, from dusk to dawn.
And drums upon it with his heels, whereby
Is bred the neighing thunder in the hills.

143

THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB 147

This is Tamaiij the God of all Er-Heb,

Who was before all Gods^ and made all Gods,

And presently will break the Gods he made,

And step upon the Earth to govern men

Who give him milk-dry ewes and cheat his

Priests,
Or leave his shrine unlighted — as Er-Heb
Left it unlighted and forgot Taman,
When all the Valley followed after Kysh
And Yabosh, little Gods but very wise.
And from the sky Taman beheld their sin.

He sent the Sickness out upon the hills

The Red Horse Sickness with the iron hooves.

To turn the Valley to Taman again.

And the Red Horse snuffed thrice into the wind.

The naked wind that had no fear of him ;

And the Red Horse stamped thrice upon the snow.

The nalied snow that had no fear of him ;

And the Red Horse went out across the rocks

The ringing rocks that had no fear of him ;

^And downward, where the lean birch meets the

^H snow,

I

148 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

And downward^ where the grey pine meets the birch, j
And downward,, where the dwarf oak meets the pine,]
Till at his feet our cup-like pastures lay. i

That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped, \

Dropped as a cloth upon a dead man's face, j

And weltered in the valley, bluish- white j

Like water very silent — spread abroad, ^

Like water very silent, from the Shrine

Unlighted of Taman to where the stream

Is dammed to fill our cattle-troughs — sent up

I
White waves that rocked and heaved and then were;

still, I

Till all the Valley glittered like a marsh, '\

Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist j

Knee-deep, so that men waded as they walked. \

That night, the Red Horse grazed above the Dam, 1
Beyond the cattle-troughs. Men heard him feed, I
And those that heard him sickened where they lay. j

Thus came the sickness to Er-Heb, and slew
Ten men, strong men, and of the women four ;
And the Red Horse went hillward with the dawn, ,
But near the cattle-troughs his hoof-prints lay.

THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB 149

That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped,

Dropped as a cloth upon the dead, but rose

A little higher, to a young girl's height ;

Till all the valley glittered like a lake.

Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist.

That night, the Red Horse grazed beyond the Dam
A stone' s-throw from the troughs. Men heard him

feed.
And those that heard him sickened where they lay.
Thus came the sickness to Er-Heb, and slew
Of men a score, and of the women eight.
And of the children two.

Because the road
To Gorukh was a road of enemies.
And Ao-Safai was blocked with early snow.
We could not flee from out the Valley. Death
Smote at us in a slaughter-pen, and Kysh
Was mute as Yabosh, though the goats were slain ;
And the Red Horse grazed nightly by the stream.
And later, outward, towards the Unlighted Shrine,
And those that heard him sickened where they
lay.

150 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

Then said Bisesa to the Priests at dusk^

When the white mist rose up breast-high, and choked \

The voices in the houses of the dead : —

' Yabosh and Kysh avail not. If the Horse

' Reach the Unlighted Shrine we surely die.

' Ye have forgotten of all Gods the Chief,

' Taman ! ' Here rolled the thunder through the Hill.

And Yabosh shook upon his pedestal.

' Ye have forgotten of all Gods the chief

' Too long.' And all were dumb save one, who cried

On Yabosh with the Sapphire 'twixt His knees.

But found no answer in the smoky roof.

And, being smitten of the sickness, died

Before the altar of the Sapphire Shrine.

Then said Bisesa : — '^I am near to Death,

* And have the Wisdom of the Grave for gift ;

' To bear me on the path my feet must tread.

' If there be wealth on earth, then I am rich,

' For Armod is the first of all Er-Heb ;

' If there be beauty on the earth,' — her eyes

Dropped for a moment to the temple floor, —

' Ye know that I am fair. If there be Love,

'Ye know that love is mine.' The Chief in War,

THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

151

The Man of Sixty Spears, broke from the press.

And would have clasped her, but the Priests with-
stood.

Saying : — ' She has a message from Taman/

Then said Bisesa : — ' By my wealth and love

' And beauty, I am chosen of the God

'Taman/ Here rolled the thunder through the
Hills

And Kysh fell forward on the Mound of Skulls.

In darkness, and before our Priests, the maid

Between the altars cast her bracelets down,

Therewith the heavy earrings Armod made.

When he was young, out of the water-gold

Of Gorukh — threw the breast-plate thick with jade

Upon the turquoise anklets — put aside

The bands of silver on her brow and neck ;

And as the trinkets tinkled on the stones.

The thunder of Taman lowed like a bull.

Then said Bisesa, stretching out her hands.
As one in darkness fearing Devils : — ' Help !
' O Priests, I am a woman very weak,

152 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

' And who am I to know the will of Gods ?
'Taman hath called me — whither shall I go?'
The Chief in War, the Man of Sixty Spears,
Howled in his torment, fettered by the Priests,
But dared not come to her to drag her forth.
And dared not lift his spear against the Priests.
Then all men wept.

There was a Priest of Kysh
Bent with a hundred winters, hairless, blind.
And taloned as the gi'eat Snow-Eagle is.
His seat was nearest to the altar-fireSj
And he was counted dumb among the Priests.
But, whether Kysh decreed, or from Taman
The impotent tongue found utterance we know
As little as the bats beneath the eaves.
He cried so that they heard who stood without :-
* To the Unlighted Shrine ! ' and crept aside
Into the shadow of his fallen God
And whimpered, and Bisesa went her way.

That night, the slow mists of the evening droppei
Dropped as a cloth upon the dead, and rose
Above the roofs, and by the Unlighted Shrine

THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB 153

Lay as the slimy water of the troughs
When murrain thins the cattle of Er-Heb :
And through the mist men heard the Red Horse
feed.

In Armod's house they burned Bisesa's dower,
And killed her black bull Tor^ and broke her wheel.
And loosed her hair, as for the marriage-feast,
With cries more loud than mourning for the dead.

Across the fields, from Armod's dwelling-place.

We heard Bisesa weeping where she passed

To seek the Unlighted Shrine; the Red Horse

neighed
And followed her, and on the river-mint
His hooves struck dead and heavy in our ears.

Out of the mists of evening, as the star

Of Ao-Safai climbs through the black snow-blur

To show the Pass is clear, Bisesa stepped

Upon the great grey slope of mortised stone,

The Causeway of Taman. The Red Horse neighed

Behind her to the Unlighted Shrine — then fled

North to the Mountain where his stable lies.

154

THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

They know who dared the anger of Taman,

And watched that night above the chnging mists/

Far up the hill^ Bisesa's passing in.

She set her hand upon the carven door.
Fouled by a myriad bats, and black with time,
Whereon is graved the Glory of Taman
In letters older than the Ao-Safai ;
And twice she turned aside and twice she wept,
Cast down upon the threshold, clamouring
For him she loved — the Man of Sixty Spears,
And for her father, — and the black bull Tor,
Hers and her pride. Yea, twice she turned away
Before the awful darkness of the door.
And the great horror of the Wall of Man
Where Man is made the plaything of Taman,
An Eyeless Face that waits above and laughs.

But the third time she cried and put her palms
Against the hewn stone leaves, and prayed Taman
To spare Er-Heb and take her life for price.

They know who watched, the doors were rent apart
And closed upon Bisesa, and the rain

THE SACRIFICE OF ER HEB 155

Broke like a flood across the Valley^ washed
The mist away ; but louder than the rain
The thunder of Taman filled men with fear.

Some say that from the Unlighted Shrine she cried

For succour, very pitifully, thrice.

And others that she sang and had no fear.

And some that there was neither song nor cry.

But only thunder and the lashing rain.

Howbeit, in the morning men rose up.
Perplexed with horror, crowding to the Shrine.
And when Er-Heb was gathered at the doors
The Priests made lamentation and passed in
To a strange Temple and a God they feared
But knew not.

From the crevices the grass
Had thrust the altar-slabs apart, the walls
Were grey with stains unclean, the roof-beams

swelled
With many-coloured growth of rottenness.
And lichen veiled the Image of Taman
In leprosy. The Basin of the Blood

15G THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB

Above the altar held the morning sun :
A winking ruby on its heart : below^,
Face hid in hands, the maid Bisesa lay.

Er-Heh beyond the Hilh of Ao-Safai
Bears witness to the tnith, and Ao-Safai
Hath told the men of Gorukh. The?ice the tale
Comes westward o'er the peaks to India,

THE EXPLANATION

Love and Death once ceased their strife
At the Tavern of Man's Life.
Called for wine, and threw — alas ! —
Each his quiver on the grass.
When the bout was o'er they found
Mingled arrows strewed the ground.
Hastily they gathered then
Each the loves and lives of men.
Ah, the fateful dawn deceived !
Mingled arrows each one sheaved ;
Death's dread armoury was stored
With the shafts he most abhorred ;
Love's light quiver groaned beneath
Venom-headed darts of Death.

Thus it was they wrought our woe

At the Tavern long ago.

Tell me, do our masters know,

Loosing blindly as they fly,

Old men love while young men die ?

157

THE GIFT OF THE SEA

The dead child lay in the shroud,
And the widow watched beside ;

And her mother slept, and the Channel swept
The gale in the teeth of the tide.

But the mother laughed at all.

' I have lost my man in the sea,
' And the child is dead. Be still/ she said,

' What more can ye do to me } '

The widow watched the dead.

And the candle guttered low.
And she tried to sing the Passing Song

That bids the poor soul go.

And ' Mary take you now,' she sang,
' That lay against my heart.'

And '^ Mary smooth your crib to-night/
But she could not say ^ Depart.*

158

THE GIF! OF THE SEA 159

Then came a cry from the sea^

But the sea-rime bhnded the glass^,

And ' Heard ye nothing, mother ? ' she said,
' 'Tis the child that waits to pass/

And the nodding mother sighed.

'^ 'Tis a lambing ewe in the whin,
^ For why should the christened soul cry out

' That never knew of sin ? '

' O feet I have held in my hand,

' O hands at my heart to catch,
' How should they know the road to go,

' And how should they lift the latch ? '

Thej'^ laid a sheet to the door.

With the little quilt atop.
That it might not hurt from the cold or the dirt.

But the crying would not stop.

The widow lifted the latch
And strained her eyes to see.

And opened the door on the bitter shore
To let the soul go free.

160

THE GIFT OF THE SEA

There was neither glimmer nor ghost^

There was neither spirit nor spark.
And ' Heard ye nothing, mother ? ' she said,

' 'Tis crying for me in the dark/

And the nodding mother sighed :

' 'Tis sorrow makes ye dull ;
' Have ye yet to learn the cry of the tern,

' Or the wail of the wind-blown gull ? '

' The terns are blown inland,

' The grey gull follows the plough.
' 'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard,

' O mother, I hear it now ! '

' Lie still, dear lamb, lie still ;

' The child is passed from harm,
*'Tis the ache in your breast that broke your rest,

' And the feel of an empty arm.'

She put her mother aside,

' In Mary's name let be !
' For the peace of my soul I must go,' she said.

And she went to the calling sea.

THE GIFT OF THE SEA

161

In the heel of the wind-bit

pier,

Where the twisted weed was piled.
She came to the life she had missed by an hour.
For she came to a little child.

She laid it into her breast.

And back to her mother she came.

But it would not feed and it would not heed,
Though she gave it her own child's name.

And the dead child dripped on her breast.
And her own in the shroud lay stark ;

And ' God forgive us, mother,' she said,
• We let it die in the dark ! '

EVARRA AND HIS GODS

Head here :

This is ike story of Evarra — man —

Maker of Gods in lands heyond the sea.
Because the city gave him of her gold,
Because the caravans brought turquoises.
Because his life was sheltered by the King,
So that no man should maim him, none should

steal.
Or break his rest vrith babble in the streets
When he was weary after toil, he made
An image of his God in gold and pearl.
With turquoise diadem and human eyes,
A wonder in the sunshine, known afar.
And worshipped by the King; but, drunk with

pride.
Because the city bowed to him for God,
He wrote above the shrine : ' Thus Gods are made,
' And whoso makes them otherwise shall die*
And all the city praised him. . . . Then he died.

162

EVARRA AND HIS GODS 163

Read here the stoinj of Evarra — man —

Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.
Because the city had no wealth to give.
Because the caravans were spoiled afar.
Because his life was threatened by the King,
So that all men despised him in the streets.
He hewed the living rock, with sweat and tears,
And reared a God agamst the morning-gold,
A terror in the sunshine, seen afar,
And worshipped by the King; but, drunk with

pride.
Because the city fawned to bring him back.
He carved upon the plinth : ' Thus Gods are made,
' And whoso makes them otherwise shall die'
And all the people praised him. . . . Then he
died.

Read here the story of Evarra — man —

Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.
Because he lived among a simple folk.
Because his village was between the hills,
Because he smeared his cheeks with blood of ewes.
He cut an idol from a fallen pine.
Smeared blood upon its cheeks, and wedged a shell

I

164 EVARRA AND HIS GODS

Above its brows for eyes, and gave it hair
Of trailing moss, and plaited straw for crown.
And all the village praised him for this craft.
And brought him butter, honey, milk, and curds.
Wherefore, because the shoutings drove him mad,
He scratched upon that log : ' Thus Gods are made,
' And whoso makes them otherwise shall die.'
And all the people praised him. . . . Then he
died.

Read here the story of Evarra — man —

Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.

Because his God decreed one clot of blood
Should swerve one hair's-breadth from the pulse's

path.
And chafe his brain, Evarra mowed alone,
Rag-wrapped, among the cattle in the fields.
Counting his fingers, jesting with the trees.
And mocking at the mist, until his God
Drove him to labour. Out of dung and horns
Dropped in the mire he made a monstrous God,
Abhorrent, shapeless, crowned with plantain tufts.
And when the cattle lowed at twilight-time.
He dreamed it was the clamour of lost crowds,

I

»

EVARRA AND HIS GODS 165

And howled among the beasts : ' Thus Gods are

made,
'And whoso makes them othertvise shall die*
Thereat the cattle bellowed. . . . Then he died.

Yet at the last he came to Paradise,
And found his own four Gods, and that he wrote ;
And marvelled, being very near to God,
What oaf on earth had made his toil God's law.
Till God said mocking : ' Mock not. These be

thine.'

Then cried Evarra : * I have sinned ! ' — ' Not so.
' If thou hadst written otherwise, thy Gods
' Had rested in the mountain and the mine,
' And I were poorer by four wondrous Gods,
' And thy more wondrous law, Evarra. Thine,
' Servant of shouting crowds and lowing kine.'

Thereat, with laughing mouth, but tear-wet eyes,
Evarra cast his Gods from Paradise.

This is the story of Evarra — man —
Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.

THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS

When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on

Eden's green and gold.
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched

with a stick in the mould ;
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen

was joy to his mighty heart.
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, ' It 's

pretty, but is it Art ? '

Wherefore he called to his wife, and fled to fashion

his work anew —
The first of his race who cared a fig for the first,

most dread review ;
And he left his lore to the use of his sons — ai

that was a glorious gain
When the Devil chuckled ^Is it Art?' in the

of the branded Cain.

THE CONUNDRUM 167

They builded a tower to shiver the sky and wrench

the stars apart,
Till the Devil grunted behind the bricks : *^ It 's

striking, but is it Art ? '
The stone was dropped at the quarry-side and the

idle derrick swung.
While each man talked of the aims of Art, and

each in an alien tongue.

They fought and they talked in the North and

the South, they talked and they fought in

the West,
Till the waters rose on the pitiful land, and the

poor Red Clay had rest —
Had rest till the dank blank-canvas dawn when the

dove was preened to start.
And the Devil bubbled below the keel : ' It 's

human, but is it Art ? '

The tale is as old as the Eden Tree — and new as

the new-cut tooth —
For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he is

master of Art and Truth ;

168 THE CONUNDRUM OF

And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the

beat of his dying hearty
The Devil drum on the darkened pane : ' You die

itj but was it Art ? '

We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the

shape of a surplice-peg.
We have learned to bottle our parents twain in the

yelk of an addled eggj
We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the

horse is drawn by the cart ;
But the Devil whoops, as he whooped of old ; ^ It 's

clever, but is it Art ? '

WTien the flicker of London sun falls faint on the

Club-room's green and gold,
The sons of Adam sit them down and scratch with

their pens in the mould —
They scratch with their pens in the mould of their

graves, and the ink and the anguish start.
For the Devil mutters behind the leaves : ' It 's

pretty, but is it Art ? *

THE WORKSHOPS

im

Now^ if we could win to the Eden Tree where the

Four Great Rivers flow.
And the Wreath of Eve is red on the turf as she

left it long ago.
And if we could come when the sentry slept and

softly scurry through.
By the favour of God we might know as much —

as our father Adam knew.

I

THE LEGEND OF EVIL

This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails

And the monkeys walk together
Holding each other's tails : —

' Our fathers lived in the forest,
'Foolish people were they,

' They went down to the cornland
' To teach the farmers to play.

' Our fathers frisked in the millet,
* Our fathers skipped in the wheat,

' Our fathers hung from the branches
' Our fathers danced in the street.

' Then came the terrible farmers,
* Nothing of play they knew,

' Only . . . they caught our fathers
' And set them to labour too !

170

THE LEGEND OF EVIL 171

' Set them to work in the cornland
'With ploughs and sickles and flails,

' Put them in mud-walled prisons
' And — cut off their beautiful tails !

' Now, we can watch our fathers,

' Sullen and bowed and old,
' Stooping over the millet,

' Sharing the silly mould,

' Driving a foolish furrow,

' Mending a muddy yoke,
' Sleeping in mud-walled prisons,

' Steeping their food in smoke.

' We may not speak to our fathers,

' For if the farmers knew
* They would come up to the forest

' And set us to labour too.'

This is the horrible story

Told as the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together

Holding each other's tails.

I

172 THE LEGEND OF EVIL

'TwAS when the rain fell steady an' the Ark was
pitched an' ready^
That Noah got his orders for to take the bastes
below ;
He dragged them all together by the horn an hide

an' feather, j

An all excipt the Donkey was agreeable to go. I

c

Thin Noah spoke him fairly, thin talked to him ^

sevarely, j

An' thin he cursed him squarely to the glory av :^

the Lord : — j

' Divil take the ass that bred you, and the greater

ass that fed you —

Divil go wid you, ye spalpeen ! ' an' the Donkey

went aboard.

But the wind was always failin', an' 'twas mosj
onaisy sail in'.
An' the ladies in the cabin couldn't stand the
stable air ;

THE LEGEND OF EVIL 173

the bastes betwuxt the hatches, they tuk an'
died in batches,
'ill Noah said : — ' There 's wan av us that hasn't
paid his fare ! '

For he heard a flusteration wid the bastes av all
creation —
The trumpetin' av elephints an' bellowin' av
whales ;
An' he saw forninst the windy whin he wint to
^B stop the shindy
'• The Divil wid a stable-fork bedivillin* their tails.

The Divil cursed outrageous, but Noah said um-
brageous : —
'To what am I indebted for this tenant-right
invasion ? '
An' the Divil gave for answer : — ' Evict me if you
can, sir,
'For I came in wid the Donkey — on Your
Honour's invitation.'

THE ENGLISH FLAG

Above the portico a fiag-staff, bearing the Union Jack,
remained fluttering in the flames for some time, but
ultimately when it fell the crowds rent the air with shouts,
and seemed to see significance in the incident.

DAILY PAPERS.

Winds of the World, give answer! They are

whimpering to and fro —
And what should they know of England who only

England know ? —
The poor little street-bred people that vapour and

fume and brag,
They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp

at the English Flag !

Must we borrow a clout from the Boer — to plaster

anew with dirt ?
An Irish liar's bandage, or an English coward's

shirt ? i^Hl

We may not speak of England ; her Flag's to sell

share.
What is the Flag of England? Winds of tl

World, declare '-

174

THE ENGLISH FLAG

The North Wind blew: — 'From Bergen my steel-
shod van-guards go ;

' I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe ;

' By the great North Lights above me I work the
will of God,

' And the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger
fills with cod.

' I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors

with flame,
•' Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies

came;
\ ' I took the sun from their presence, I cut them

down with my blast,
^ And they died, but the Flag of England blew free

ere the spirit passed.

' The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long

Arctic night,
'The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the

Northern Light :
' What is the Flag of England ? Ye have but my

bergs to dare,
' Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for it
there ! '

I

176 THE ENGLISH FLAG

The South Wind sighed: — 'From the Virgins my

mid-sea course was ta'en
' Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main,
'Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the

long-backed breakers croon
'Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked

lagoon.

i

'Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer |

keys, j

' I waked the palms to laughter — I tossed the scud in ;

the breeze — i

' Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone, ]

' But over the scud and the palm-trees an English :

flag was flown. J

' I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang

for a wisp on the Horn ;
' I have chased it north to the Lizard — ribboned and

rolled and torn ;
' I have spread its fold o'er the dying, adrift in a

hopeless sea ;
' I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the

slave set free.

1

THE ENGLISH FLAG 177

' My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling albatross,
"Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the
Southern Cross,
^^^hat is the Flag of England ? Ye have but my
^P reefs to dare^
' Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it is
there ! '

The East Wind roared : — ' From the Kuriles, the

Bitter Seas^ I come,
' And me men call the Home- Wind, for I bring the

English home.
' Look — look well to your shipping J By the breath
^H of my mad typhoon

W^l swept your close-packed Praya and beached your
HL best at Kowloon !

' Ihe reeling junks behind me and the racing seas
before,
raped your richest roadstead — I plundered Singa-
pore !
set my hand on the Hoogli ; as a hooded snake
she rose,
Lnd I flung your stoutest steamers to roost with
the startled crows.

M

178 THE ENGLISH FLAG

' Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake, |
' But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for

England's sake —
' Man or woman or suckling, mother or biide or

maid —
' Because on the bones of the English the English

Flag is stayed.

' The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass '
knows, \

' The scared white leopard winds it across the taint- {

less snows.

^ What is the Flag of England ? Ye have but my \

I
sun to dare, \

' Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is i

there!'

The West Wind called : — ' In squadrons the thought- |

less galleons fly

j
'That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred ;

people die. |

' They make my might their porter, they make ray

house their path,
' Till I loose my neck from their rudder and whelm

them all in my wrath.

THE ENGLISH FLAG 179

' I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn

from the hole,
^?hey bellow one to the other, the frighted ship-
f bells toll,
' For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud

with my breath,
'And they see strange bows above them and the
two go locked to death.

' But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by

dark or day,
' I heave them whole to the conger or rip their

plates away,
' First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky,
* Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes

by.

' The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it — the frozen

dews have kissed —
' The naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the

mist.
' What is the Flag of England ? Ye have but my

breath to dare,
' Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it

is there ! '

I

'CLEARED'

(in memory of a commission)

Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit i

hurt, I

Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the i

dirt ! ^

From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, O listen to my :

song, '

The honourable gentlemen have suffered grievous |

wrong. j

Their noble names were mentioned — O the burning ^

black disgrace ! — \

By a brutal Saxon paper in an Irish shooting- |

case;
They sat upon it for a year, then steeled their heart

to brave it.
And 'coruscating innocence* the learned Judges

gave it.

180

'CLEARED'

ear witness,, Heaven, of that grim crime beneath
the surgeon's knife.
The honourable gentlemen deplored the loss of
W^ life I
Bear witness of those chanting choirs that burk and

shirk and snigger.
No man laid hand upon the knife or finger to the
^^ trigger !

r

m Cleared in the face of all mankind beneath the
r winking skies.

Like phoenixes from Phoenix Park (and what lay

there) they rise !
Go shout it to the emerald seas — give word to Erin

now.
Her honourable gentlemen are cleared — and this
is how : —

They only paid the Moonlighter his cattle-hocking

price.
They only helped the murderer with counsel's best

advice,

182 ' CLEARED '

But — sure it keeps their honour white — the learned

Court believes
They never give a piece of plate to murderers and

thieves.

They never told the ramping crowd to card a

woman's hide.

They never marked a man for death — what fault of :

theirs he died ? — (

They only said ^intimidate,' and talked and went [

away — I

By God, the boys that did the work were braver \

men than they ! (

Their sin it was that fed the fire — small blame

them that heard —
The 'bhoys' get drunk on rhetoric, and madden

at a word —
They knew whom they were talking at, if thej

were Irish too.
The gentlemen that lied in Court, they knew, and

well they knew.

^

CLEARED ' 183

They only took the Judas-gold from Fenians out of

jail,
ey only fawned for dollars on the blood-dyed

Clan-na-Gael.
If black is black or white is white, in black and

white it's down.
They're only traitors to the Queen and rebels to

the Crown.

' Cleared/ honourable gentlemen ! Be thankful it 's

no more :

The widow's curse is on your house, the dead are

at your door.
On you the shame of open shame, on you from

North to South
The hand of every honest man flat-heeled across

your mouth.

'Less black than we were painted'? — Faith, no

word of black was said ;
The lightest touch was human blood, and that, you

know, runs red.

184

'CLEARED

It's sticking to your fist to-day for all your sneer

and scoff.
And by the Judge's well-weighed word you cannot

wipe it off.

Hold up those hands of innocence — go, scare your

sheep together.
The blundering, tripping tups that bleat behind the

old bell-wether ;
And if they snuff the taint and break to find

another pen.
Tell them it's tar that glistens so, and daub them

yours again .'

i

' The charge is old ' ? — As old as Cain — as fresh as

yesterday ; '.

Old as the Ten Commandments — have ye talked i

those laws away ? i

If words are words, or death is death, or powder !

sends the ball, ^

You spoke the words that sped the shot — the curse \

be on you all. J

CLEARED'

' Our friends believe * ? Of course they do — as

sheltered women may ;
But have they seen the shrieking soul ripped from

the quivering clay ?
They! — If their own front door is shut, they'll

swear the whole world 's warm ;
^hat do they know of dread of death or hanging

fear of harm ?

secret half a county keeps_, the whisper in the

lane.
The shriek that tells the shot went home behind

the broken pane.
The dry blood crisping in the sun that scares the

honest bees,
And shows the ' bhoys * have heard your talk — what
j^ do they know of these ?

to

But you — you know — ay, ten times more ; the

secrets of the dead.
Black terror on the country-side by word and

I whisper bred.

186

CLEARED

The mangled stallion's scream at night, thezsSP

cropped heifer's low.
Who set the whisper going first ? You know^ and

well you know !

My soul! I'd sooner lie in jail for murder plain

and straight, |

Pure crime I 'd done with my own hand for money, i

lust, or hate, ^

Than take a seat in Parliament by fellow-felons j

cheered, ';

i

While one of those 'not provens* proved me cleared j
as you are cleared. i

Cleared — you that ' lost ' the League accounts — go

guard our honour still.
Go, help to make our country's laws that broke

God's law at will —
One hand stuck out behind the back, to signal

' strike again ' ;
The other on your dress-shirt-front to show your

heart is clane.

4

CLEARED

187

If black is black or white is white, in black and

white it's down,
.You 're only traitors to the Queen and rebels to the
P Crown.
If print is print or words are words, the learned

Court perpends : —
We are not ruled by murderers, but only — by their

friends.

AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT

Now this is the tale of the Council the German

Kaiser decreed,
To ease the strong of their burden, to help the

weak in their need.
He sent a word to the peoples, who struggle, and

pant, and sweat.
That the straw might be counted fairly and the

tally of bricks be set.

The Lords of Their Hands assembled ; from the j

East and the West they drew — !

Baltimore, Lille, and Essen, Brummagem, Clyde, 5

and Crewe. ;

And some were black from the furnace, and some j

were brown from the soil, f

And some were blue from the dye-vat; but all were j|

wearied of toil.

1S8

AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT

And the young King said : — ' I have found it, the
road to the rest ye seek :
^—^ The strong shall wait for the weary, the hale shall
^P halt for the weak ;

'With the even tramp of an army where no man
^Bk breaks from the line,

' Ye shall march to peace and plenty in the bond of
brotherhood — sign !'

The paper lay on the table, the strong heads bowed

thereby.
And a wail went up from the peoples : — ' Ay, sign —

give rest, for we die 1 *
A hand was stretched to the goose-quill, a fist was

cramped to scrawl.
When — the laugh of a blue-eyed maiden ran clear

through the council-hall.

And each one heard Her laughing as each one saw

Her plain —
Saidie, Mimi, or Olga, Gretchen, or Mary Jane.
And the Spirit of Man that is in Him to the light

of the vision woke ;
And the men drew back from the paper, as a

Yankee delegate spoke : —

190

AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT

' There 's a girl in Jersey City who works on the,

telephone ;
^We're going to hitch our horses and dig for a

house of our own,
'With gas and water connections, and steam heat

through to the top j
'And,W. Hohenzollern, I guess I shall work till I drop.'

And an English delegate thundered : — ' The weak

an' the lame be blowed !
' I 've a berth in the Sou' -West workshops, a home

in the Wandsworth Road ;
' And till the 'sociation has footed my bury in' bill,
' I work for the kids an the missus. Pull up ! I '11

be damned if I will ! '

And over the German benches the bearded whisper

' Lager, der girls und der dollars, dey makes or dey

breaks a man.
' If Schmitt haf collared der dollars, he collars der

girl deremit ;
' But if Schmitt bust in der pizness, we collars der

girl from Schmitt.'

AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPl

191

ley passed one resolution : — ' Your sub-committee

believe
'You can lighten the curse of Adam when you've
■ lightened the curse of Eve.
' But till we are built like angels,, with hammer and

chisel and pen,
' We will work for ourself and a woman, for ever and

ever, amen/

Now this is the tale of the Council the German

Kaiser held —
The day that they razored the Grindstone, the

day that the Cat was belled.
The day of the Figs from Thistles, the day of the

Twisted Sands,
The day that the laugh of a maiden made light of

the Lords of Their Hands.

TOMLINSON

Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in

Berkeley Square,
And a Spirit came to his bedside and gripped him

by the hair —
A Spirit gripped him by the hair and carried him

far away,
Till he heard as the roar of a rain-fed ford the roar

of the Milky Way :
Till he heard the roar of the Milky Way die down

and drone and cease,
And they came to the Gate within the Wall where

Peter holds the keys.
^ Stand up, stand up now, Tomlinson, and answer

loud and high
* The good that ye did for the sake of men or ever

ye came to die —
' The good that ye did for the sake of men in little

earth so lone ! '

TOMLINSON 193

And the naked soul of Tomlinson grew white as
a rain-washed bone.
^^ I have a friend on earth/ he said, ' that was
^F niy priest and guide,
' And well would he answer all for me if he were by

my side/
— ^ For that ye strove in neighbour-love it shall be

written fair,
'But now ye wait at Heaven's Gate and not in

Berkeley Square :
'Though we called your friend from his bed this
night, he could not speak for you,
^^or the race is run by one and one and never by
■■ two and two/

TTien Tomlinson looked up and down, and little
gain was there.
For the naked stars grinned overhead, and he saw

that his soul was bare :
The Wind that blows between the worlds, it cut

him like a knife,
, And Tomlinson took up his tale and spoke of his
\ good in life.

I This I have read in a book,* he said, ' and that was
■ told to me,
I

194 TOMLINSON

^ And this I have thought that another man thought

of a Prince in Muscovy/
The good souls flocked hke homing doves and

bade him clear the path.
And Peter twirled the jangling keys in weariness

and wrath.
' Ye have read, ye have heard, ye have thought/ he

said, ^ and the tale is yet to run :
' By the worth of the body that once ye had, give

answer — what ha' ye done ? '
Then Tomlinson looked back and forth, and little

good it bore.
For the Darkness stayed at his shoulder-blade and

Heaven's Gate before : —
' O this I have felt, and this I have guessed, and

this I have heard men say,
' And this they wrote that another man wrote of a

carl in Norroway/
' Ye have read, ye have felt, ye have guessed, good

lack ! Ye have hampered Heaven's Gate ;
' There 's little room between the stars in idleness to

prate !
• O none may reach by hired speech of neighbour,

priest, and kin

TOMLINSON 195

'Through borrowed deed to God's good meed that

lies so fair within ;
' Get hence, get hence to the Lord of Wrong, for

doom has yet to run,
'And . . . the faith that ye share with Berkeley

Square uphold you, Toralinson ! '

The Spirit gripped him by the hair, and sun by sun

they fell
Till they came to the belt of Naughty Stars that

rim the mouth of Hell :
The first are red with pride and wrath, the next are

» white with pain,
ut the third are black with clinkered sin that
cannot burn again :
^J'hey may hold their path, they may leave their
^P path, with never a soul to mark.

They may bum or freeze, but they must not cease
H| in the Scorn of the Outer Dark.
j^The Wind that blows between the worlds, it nipped
him to the bone.
And he yearned to the flare of Hell-gate there as
^h the light of his own hearth-stone

I

196 TOMLINSON

The Devil he sat behind the bars^, where the desperate
legions drew.

But he caught the hasting Tomlinson and would not
let him through.

'Wot ye the price of good pit-coal that I must
pay ? ' said he,

' That ye rank yoursel' so fit for Hell and ask no
leave of me ?

' I am all o'er-sib to Adam's breed that ye should
give me scorn,

' For I strove with God for your First Father the day
that he was born.

' Sit down, sit down upon the slag, and answer loud
and high

' The harm that ye did to the Sons of Men or ever
you came to die/

And Tomlinson looked up and up, and saw against
the night

The belly of a tortured star blood-red in Hell-
Mouth light ;

And Tomlinson looked down and down, and saw
beneath his feet

The frontlet of a tortured star milk-white in Hell-
Mouth heat.

TOMLINSON 197

'O I had a love on earth/ said he, 'that kissed
I me to my fall,

' And if ye would call my love to me I know she
would answer all/
' All that ye did in love forbid it shall be written
fair,
' But now ye wait at Hell-Mouth Gate and not in

Berkeley Square :
f Though we whistled your love from her bed to-night,
' I trow she would not run,

' For the sin ye do by two and two ye must pay for
one by one ! '
e Wind that blows between the worlds, it cut him
like a knife.
And Tomlinson took up the tale and spoke of his
I sin in life : —

' Once I ha' laughed at the power of Love and twice
at the grip of the Grave,
j^^And thrice I ha' patted my God on the head that
^p men might call me brave/

^Hlie Devil he blew on a brandered soul and set it
^m aside to cool : —

^m Do ye think I would waste my good pit-coal on the
^K hide of a brain-sick fool ?

I

re

1^

198 TOMLINSON

' I see no worth in the hobnailed mirth or the jolt-
head jest ye did

' That I should waken my gentlemen that are sleep-
ing three on a grid/

Then Tomlinson looked back and forth, and there
was little grace.

For Hell-Gate filled the houseless Soul with the
Fear of Naked Space.

^Nay, this I ha' heard/ quo' Tomlinson, 'and this
was noised abroad,

' And this I ha' got from a Belgian book on the word
of a dead French lord/

— ' Ye ha' heard, ye ha' read, ye ha' got, good lack !
and the tale begins afresh —

' Have ye sinned one sin for the pride o' the eye or
the sinful lust of the flesh ? '

Then Tomlinson he gripped the bars and yammered,
' Let me in —

'For I mind that I borrowed my neighbour's wife to
sin the deadly sin/

The Devil he grinned behind the bars, and banked)
the fires high :

* Did ye read of that sin in a book ? ' said he ; and
Tomlinson said, ' Ay ! '

^

)MLINSON 199

The Devil he blew upon his nails^ and the little

devils ran,
d he said : ' Go husk this whimpering thief that

comes in the guise of a man :
'Winnow him out 'twixt star and star, and sieve his

proper worth :
'There 's sore decline in Adam's line if this be spawn

of earth/
Empusa's crew, so naked-new they may not face the

fire.
But weep that they bin too small to sin to the height

of their desire.
Over the coal they chased the Soul, and racked it

all abroad.
As children rifle a caddis-case or the raven's foolish

hoard.
And back they came with the tattered Thing, as

children after play.
And they said: 'The soul that he got from God he

has bartered clean away.
'We have threshed a stock of print and book, and

winnowed a chattering wind
'And many a soul wherefrom he stole, but his we

cannot find :

200 TOMLINSON

' We have handled him^ we have dandled him, we "

have seared him to the bone, {

' And sure if tooth and nail show truth he has no soul j

of his own/ ^

The Devil he bowed his head on his breast and j

rumbled deep and low : —
'I'm all o'er-sib to Adam's breed that I should bid ^

him go. i

'Yet close we lie, and deep we lie, and if I gave him \

place, 1

' My gentlemen that are so proud would flout me to ■

my face ; ^

' They 'd call my house a common stews and me a

careless host, '^

' And — I would not anger my gentlemen for the sake i

of a shiftless ghost.' i

The Devil he looked at the mangled Soul that

prayed to feel the flame.
And he thought of Holy Charity, but he thought of

his own good name : —
' Now ye could haste my coal to waste, and sit ye

down to fry :
'Did ye think of that theft for yourself.'*' said he;

and Tomlinson said, ' Ay ! '

TOMLINSON 201

e Devil he blew an outward breath, for his heart
was free from care : —
Ye have scarce the soul of a louse/ he said, ' but

the roots of sin are there,
' And for that sin should ye come in were I the lord

alone.
^ But sinful pride has rule inside — and mightier than

my own.
' Honour and Wit, fore-damned they sit, to each his

I priest and whore :
Nay, scarce I dare myself go there, and you they'd
torture sore.
Ye are neither spirit nor spirk,' he said ; ' ye are
neither book nor brute —
' Go, get ye back to the flesh again for the sake of

Man's repute.
' I 'm all o'er-sib to Adam's breed that I should mock

your pain,
^ But look that ye win to worthier sin ere ye come

back again.
'Get hence, the hearse is at your door — the grim

black stallions wait —
' They bear your clay to place to-day. Speed, lest
ye come too late !

202 TOMLINSON

'Go back to Earth with a lip unsealed — go back

with an open eye,
' And carry my word to the Sons of Men or ever ye

come to die :
' That the sin they do by two and two they must pay

for one by one —
'And . . . the God that you took from a printed

book be with you, Tomlinson ! '

L'ENVOI

There's a whisper down the field where the year
has shot her yield.
And the ricks stand grey to the sun.
Singing : — ' Over then, come over, for the bee has
quit the clover,
' And your English summer's done/

You have heard the beat of the ofF-shore wind,

And the thresh of the deep-sea rain ;

You have heard the song — how long ! how

long ?
Pull out on the trail again !

Ha' done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass,

We 've seen the seasons through,

And it's time to turn on the old trail, our own

trail, the out trail.
Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail — the trail

that is always new.

203

204

L'ENVOI

It's North you may run to the rime-ringed sun

Or South to the ])hnd Horn's hate ;
Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay,
Or West to the Golden Gate ;

Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear

lass,
And the wildest tales are true.
And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own

trail, the out trail,
And life runs large on the Long Trail — the
trail that is always new.

The days are sick and cold, and the skies are grey
and old.
And the twice-breathed airs blow damp;
And I 'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea
roll
Of a black Bilbao tramp ;

With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass.

And a drunken Dago crew.

And her nose held down on the old trail, our

own trail, the out trail
From Cadiz Bar on the Long Trail — the trail
that is always new.

L'ENVOI

205

here be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake.
Or the way of a man with a maid ;
But the sweetest way to me is a ship's upon the sea
In the heel of the North-East Trade,

Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass.
And the drum of the racing screw,
^H As she ships it green on the old trail, our own
^H trail, the out trail,

^B As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail —

I ^'"""""'^"■"^^"^"'

See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the
fore.
And the fenders grind and heave.
And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle
hooks the crate,
And the fall-rope whines through the sheave ;
^H It 's ' Gang-plank up and in,' dear lass,
^H It 's ' Hawsers warp her through ! '
^H And it's 'AH clear aft' on the old trail, our
^V own trail, the out trail.

We're backing down on the Long Trail — the

L trail that is always new.

20G L'ENVOI

O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied,

And the sirens hoot their dread !
When foot by foot we creep o'er the hueless viewless
deep
To the sob of the questing lead !

It 's down by the Lower Hope, dear lass.

With the Gunfleet Sands in view.

Till the Mouse swings green on the old trail,

our own trail, the out trail.
And the Gull Light lifts on the Long Trail —
the trail that is always new.

O the blazing tropic night, when the wake's a
welt of light
That holds the hot sky tame.
And the steady fore-foot snores through the planet-
powdered floors
Where the scared whale flukes in flame !
Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are tau^t with the dew.
For we 're booming down on the old trail, our

own trail, the out trail.
We're sagging south on the Long Trail — the
trail that is always new.

L'ENVOI 207

Then home, get her home, where the drunken
rollers comb.
And the shouting seas drive by.
And the engines stamp and ring, and the wet bows
reel and swing.
And the Southern Cross rides high !

Yes, the old lost stars wheel back, dear lass.

That blaze in the velvet blue.

They're all old friends on the old trail, our

own trail, the out trail.
They 're God's own guides on the Long Trail —
the trail that is always new.

Fly forward, O my heart, from the Foreland to the
Start —
We 're steaming ail-too slow.
And it's twenty thousand mile to our little lazy isle
Where the trumpet-orchids blow !

You have heard the call of the off-shore wind

And the voice of the deep-sea rain ;

You have heard the song — how long how

long ?
Pull out on the trail again !

208

L'ENVOI

The Lord knows what we may finely dear lass.
And The Deuce knows what we may do —
But we 're back once more on the old trail, our

own trail, the out trail.
We 're down, hull down on the Long Trail —

the trail that is always new.

Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty,
at the Edinburgh University Press.

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chosen give ample scope to his descriptive and analytic faculties. A perfectly
fascinating book. Whether considered as merely popular reading or as a succes-
sion of studies in the freaks of human history, it is equally worthy of perusal,
while it is marked by the artistic literary colouring and happy lightness of style.'
—Scottish Leader.

SONGS OF THE WEST: Traditional Ballads and Songs of
the West of England, with their Traditional Melodies. Collected
by S. Baring Gould, M.A., and H. Fleetwood Sheppard,
M.A. Arranged for Voice and Piano. In 4 Parts (containing 25
Songs each). Parts /., //., ///., 3^. each. Part IV., ^s. Part /.,
Fourth Edition. Part II. , Second Edition. Part III., ready.
Part IV. In one Vol., roan, \^s.
'A rich and varied collection of humour, pathos, grace, and poetic fancy. 'Saturday
Review.

YORKSHIRE ODDITIES AND STRANGE EVENTS.
Fourth Edition. Crown Svo, 6s.

Messrs. Methuen's List ii

TRVIVALS AND SUPERSTITIONS. Crown %vo.

[In the press,

JACQUETTA, and other Stories. Crown Svo, ^s. dd. Boards, is.

ARM I NELL: A Social Romance. New Edition. Crown ^vo,
3J. 6d. Boardsy 2s.

• To say that a book is by the author of " Mehalah" is to imply that it contains a

story cast on strong lines, containing dramatic possibilities, vivid and sympathetic
descriptions of Nature, and a wealth of ingenious imagery. All these expecta.
tions are justified by " Arminell." '— .S"/*a^*r.

URITH : A Story of Dartmoor. New Edition. Crown Svo, 6s.

' The author is at his best. —Times.

* He has nearly reached the high water-mark of " Mehalah." '—National Observer.

MARGERY OF QUETHER, and other Stories. Crown Zvo^
35. 6d.

History and Biography

RusseU. THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORD COLLING-
WOOD. By W. Clark Russell, Author of * The Wreck of the
Grosvenor.' With Illustrations by F. Be angwyn. %vo. \^s.

' A really good book.' — Saturday Review.

• A most excellent and wholesome book, which we should like to see in the hands of

every boy in the country.' — ^S"^. James's Gazette.

Clark. THE COLLEGES OF OXFORD : Their History and
their Traditions. By Members of the University. Edited by A.
Clark, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Lincoln College. Zvo. \Zs.

' Whether the reader approaches the book as a patriotic member of a college, as an
antiquary, or as a student of the organic growth of college foundation, it will amply
reward his attention.'— Zzw^j.

•A delightful book, learned and Vwiiiy.'— Academy.

• All the book is highly interesting to Oxford men of course in the first place, but to

all readers in the second." — Spectator.

• A work which will certainly be appealed to for many years as the standard book on

the Colleges of Oxford.' — Athenceum.

Hulton. RIXAE OXONIENSES : An Account of the Battles

of the Nations, The Struggle between Town and Gown, etc. By
S. F. HuLTON, M.A. Crown Svo, 5^.

12 Messrs. Methuen's List

Lynch. GEORGE MEREDITH : A Study. By Hannah '{

Lynch. With Portrait. Crown Svo. $s. A limited Large-Paper j

Edition. 21 s. ^

'We strongly recommend this essay to Meredithians, still more to not yet Mere- «

dithians. '— y ournal of Education. \

Poetry

Ibsen. BRAND. A Drama by Henrik Ibsen. Translated by

William Wilson. Crown Svo. $s.

'The greatest world-poem of the nineteenth century next to "Faust." "Brand"
will have an astonishing interest for Englishmen. It is in the same set with
"Agamemnon," with " Lear," with the literature that we now instinctively regard
as high and holy.' — Daily Chronicle.

' Simply a masterpiece, standing alone among modern dramatic productions. Had
Ibsen never written anything else, this poem would immortalise him as a writer
and a thinker.' — Manchester Courier.

Henley. LYRA HEROICA : An Anthology selected from the
best English Verse of the i6th, 17th, i8th, and 19th Centuries. By
William Ernest Henley, Author of 'A Book of Verse,' * Views
and Reviews,' etc. Crown Svo. Stamped gilt buckram^ gilt top,
edges uncut. 6s.

• Mr. Henley has brought to the task of selection an instinct alike for poetry and for

chivalry which seems to us quite wonderfully, and even unerringly, right.'—

Guardian.
' Will stir all the boys' hearts in the kingdom as by trumpet.'— World.
'Worthy to be placed on the same shelf as our "Golden Treasuries." . . . Though

admirably adapted to stimulate courage and patriotism in the young, it will be

equally welcome to the adult.' — Illustrated London News.

• Mr. Henley's is a very fine ambition, and it will hardly be denied that his is a

splendid book of verse.' — Speaker.
' Take it all in all, as a present for boys, and for men for that matter, " Lyra
Heroica," printed with perfection and handsomely bound, is a book among books,
an anthology among anthologies.' — Tablet.

Tomson. A SUMMER NIGHT, AND OTHER POEMS. By

Graham R. Tomson. With Frontispiece by A. Tomson. Fcap.

Svo. y. 6d.
Also an edition on handmade paper, limited to 50 copies. Large crown

Svo. 105. 6d. net.
' Mrs. Tomson holds high rank among English poetesses, perhaps the very highest

among those of English birth. This selection will help her reputation.' — Black

and White.

• Mrs. Tomson displays on every page '* the great poetic heart." ' — Literary Opinion.

■^^ Messrs. Methuen's List 13

ridge. A CRACKED FIDDLE. Being Selections from
the Poems of Frederic Langbridge. With Portrait. Crown^vo. ^s.
Langbridge. BALLADS OF THE BRAVE : Poems of Chivalry,
Enterprise, Courage, and Constancy, from the Earliest Times to the
Present Day. Edited, with Notes, by Rev. F. Langbridge.
Crown %vo.
' A very happy conception happily carried out. These " Ballads of the Brave " are
intended to suit the real tastes of boys, and will suit the taste of the great majority.
It is not an ordinary selecter who could have so happily put together these
characteristic samples. Other readers besides boys may learn much from them.' —
Spectator. ' The book is full of splendid things.'— IVorld.

Presentation Edition. Handsomely Bound, 3J. 6d. School Edition, 2s. 6d.

Or, in Three Parts, is. each, for School Readers.

I. Troy to Flodden. II. Bosworth to Waterloo.

III. Crimea to Khartoum.

Fiction

Author of 'Indian Idylls.' IN TENT AND BUNGALOW:

Stories of Indian Sport and Society. By the Author of 'Indian
Idylls.' Crozvn 8vo. y. 6d.
Term, A DOUBLE KNOT. By G. Manville Fenn, Author
of * The Vicar's People,' etc. Crown 8vo. 3^. 6d.

Pryce. THE QUIET MRS. FLEMING. By Richard Pryce,

Author of * Miss Maxwell's Affections,' etc. Crown Svo. ^s. 6d.

Gray. ELSA. A Novel. By E. M 'Queen Gray. CrownZvo. 6j.

' a charming novel. The characters are not only powerful sketches, but minutely

and carefully finished portraits.' — Guardian.
' A very picturesque and interesting story. As good a tale as we have read for some

time.' — Spectator.
'We cordially recommend this eminently readable fiction.'— Z?a?/y Telegraph.
'Charming scenes, bright conversations, excellent studies of character.'— ^«^/-

Jacobin.
' A book which is full of good things, and far beyond the average novel in cleverness,

knowledge of life, and skilful delineation of characttv.'— Murray's Magazine.

Cobhan. A REVEREND GENTLEMAN. By J. MacLaren
Cobban, Author of ' Master of his Fate,' etc. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d.

' The best work Mr. Cobban has yet achieved. The R«v. W. Merrydew is a brilliant
creation.' — National Observer.

' There is abundance of clever things in this book, and the studies of character are
striking, and even powerful.' — St. James's Gazette.

'One of the subtlest studies of character outside Meredith.'— .J^ar.

14 Messrs. Methuen's List

Lyall. DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST. By Edna
Lyall, Author of ' Donovan.' Crown Svo. ^s. 6d. ; paper ^ is.
A cheap edition of a book which in a more expensive form has passed into its 30th
thousand.

Linton. THE TRUE HISTORY OF JOSHUA DAVIDSON,
Christian and Communist. By E. Lynn Linton. Eleventh and
Cheaper Edition. Fos( Svo. is.

Grey. THE STORY OF CHRIS. By Rowland Grey,
Author of * Lindenblumen,' etc. Crown 2>vo. ^s.

General Literature

Bowden. THE IMITATION OF BUDDHA: Being Quota-
tions from Buddhist Literature for each Day in the Year. Compiled
by E. M. Bowden. With Preface by Sir Edwin Arnold. i6mo.
2s. 6d.

Ditchfield. OUR ENGLISH VILLAGES : Their Story and
their Antiquities. By P. H, Ditchfield, M.A., F.R.H.S,, Rector
of Barkham, Berks. Post Svo. 2s. 6d. Illustrated.
' The object of the author is not so much to describe any particular village as to give
a clear idea of what village life has been in England from the earliest historical
times. An extremely amusing and interesting little book, which should find a
place in every parochial library.' — Guardian.

Ditchfield. OLD ENGLISH SPORTS. By P. H. Ditch-
field, M.A. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. Illustrated.
'A charming account of old English Sports.'— Morning Post

Stedman. OXFORD : Its Life and Schools. Edited by A. M.
M. Stedman, M.A., assisted by Members of the University. New
Edition. Crown Svo. $s.
' Offers a full and in most respects a satisfactory description of the country through
which students must travel, and affords to parents who are desirous of calculating
the expenses and rewards of University education a mass of useful information
conveniently arranged and brought down to the most recent date." — Athenteujtu

Bume. PARSON AND PEASANT: Chapters of their
Natural History. By J. B. Burne, M.A., Rector of Wasing. Crown
Svo. Ss.
' " Parson and Peasant ' is a book not only to be interested in, but to learn something
from— a book which may prove a help to many a clergyman, and broaden the
hearts and ripen the charity of laymen." '—Derby Mercury.

Messrs. Methuen's List 15

Cunningham. THE PATH TOWARDS KNOWLEDGE:

Essays on Questions of the Day. By W. Cunningham, D.D.,
Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, Professor of Economics at
King's College, London. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d.
Essays on Marriage and Population, Socialism, Money, Education, Positivism, etc.

Anderson Graham. NATURE IN BOOKS : Studies in Literary
Biography. By P. Anderson Graham. Crown Svo. 6s.

This is an attempt to trace the influence of surrounding circumstances, and especially
the mfluence of Nature, on some great writers. The chapters are entitled : I. ' The
Magic of the Fields ' (Jefferies). II. ' Art and Nature ' (Tennyson). III. 'The
Doctrine of Idleness ' (Thoreau). IV. ' The Romance of Life ' (Scott). V. ' The
Poetry of Toil ' (Burns). VI. ' The Divinity of Nature ' (Wordsworth).

' Thoughtful and informing. Patient investigation and study are unmistakable in
this book. The distinct literary flavour in Mr. Graham's pages attracts perusal.'
— Daily Chronicle.

* A good book of Essays.' — Anti- Jacobin.

Books for Boys and Girls

Walford. A PINCH OF EXPERIENCE. By L. B. Wal-

FORD, Author of • Mr. Smith.' With Illustrations by Gordon
Browne. Crown Svo. 6s.

* The clever authoress steers clear of namby-pamby, and invests her moral with a

fresh and striking dress. There is terseness and vivacity of style, and the illustra-
tions are admirable.' — Anti-Jacobin.

Molesworth. THE RED GRANGE. By Mrs. Molesworth,
Author of * Carrots. ' With Illustrations by Gordon Browne.
Crown Svo. 6s.

• A volume in which girls will delight, and beautifully illustrated. —Pall Mall

Gazette.

Clark Russell. MASTER ROCKAFELLAR'S VOYAGE. By

W. Clark Russell, Author of * The Wreck of the Grosvenor,' etc.
Illustrated by Gordon Browne. Crown Svo. y. 6d.

•Mr. Clark Russell's story of "Master Rockafellar's Voyage "will be among the
favourites of the Christmas books. There is a rattle and " go " all through it, and
Its illustrations are charming in themselves, and very much above the average in
the way in which they are produced. Mr. Clark Russell is thoroughly at home
on sea and with boys, and he manages to relate and combine the marvellous in so
plausible a manner that we are quite prepared to allow that Master Rockafellar's
is no unfair example of every midshipman's first voyage. We can heartily recom-
mend this pretty book to the notice of the parents and friends of sea-loving boys.'
—Guardian.

i6 Messrs. Methuen's List

Author of * Mdle. Mori.' THE SECRET OF MADAME DE
Monluc. By the Author of * The Atelier du Lys,' ' Mdle. Mori.'
Crown Svo. ^s.
' An exquisite literary cameo.' — World, ^H

Manville Fenn. SYD BELTON : Or, The Boy who would not
go to Sea. By G. Manville Fenn, Author of « In the King's
Name,' etc. Illustrated by Gordon Browne. Crown Hvo. 2^. <od.

* Who among the young story-reading public will not rejoice at the sight of the old

combination, so often proved admirable— a story by Manville Fenn, illustrated
by Gordon Browne ! The story, too, is one of the good old sort, full of life and
vigour, breeziness and fun. It begins well and goes on better, and from the
time Syd joins his ship exciting incidents follow each other in such rapid and 1
brilliant succession that nothing short of absolute compulsion would induce the
reader to lay it do-wn.'— Journal of Education.

Parr. DUMPS. By Mrs. Parr, Author of ' Adam and Eve,'
'Dorothy Fox,' etc. Illustrated by W. Parkinson. Crown Zvo. y
2s. ed. '^

' One of the prettiest stories which even this clever writer has given the world for a
long time.' — World.

* A very sweet and touching story.'— Pall Mall Gazette.

Meade. A GIRL OF THE PEOPLE. By L. T. Meade,
Author of * Scamp and I,' etc. Illustrated by R. Barnes. Crown
Svo. ss. 6d.

'An excellent story. Vivid portraiture of character, and broad and whole;

lessons about life.' — Spectator.
'One of Mrs. Meade's most fascinating hoaVs,:— Daily News.

Meade. HEPSY GIPSY. By L. T. Meade. Illustrated b>
EvERARD Hopkins. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.

' Mrs. Meade has not often done better work than this. 'Spectator.
' The writer possesses the rare gift of imaginative realism, and some of her simpler
scenes are the most powerful.' — Manchester Guardian.

Meade. THE HONOURABLE MISS : A Tale of a Country ,
Town. By L. T. Meade, Author of * Scamp and I,' ' A Girl of thj
People,' etc. With Illustrations by Evbrard Hopkins. Cror*m
Svo, ss. 6d.

Adams. MY LAND OF BEULAH. By Mrs. Leith Ad/
With a Frontispiece by Gordon Browne. Crown Svo, 3s. 6d.

• W».l "W

PR Kipling, Rudyard

4854. Barrack-room ballads and

B5 other verses

1 892

cop. 2

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE

»>

CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET %

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